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<title>Sputnik Sophie</title>
<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie</link>
<description>Dogster diary for the dog Sophie</description>
<language>en</language>
<copyright>Copyright 2013 by Sophie &amp; Dogster</copyright>
<pubDate>Tue, 21 May 2013 00:00:52 PDT</pubDate>
<generator>Dogster Pet-o-matic Gennie - http://www.dogster.com</generator>
<ttl>360</ttl>

	<item>
		<title>Sophie rises to the occasion:  Pennie is losing it.</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/822829</link>

				<pubdate>Mon, 8 Apr 2013 16:28:03 PDT</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/822829</guid>
		<description>I am all about dogging-up these days.  Yes, it is ME, Queen Sophine who has been working hard for a  ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ I am all about dogging-up these days.  Yes, it is ME, Queen Sophine who has been working hard for a rare occasion around this 0.46 Acres of Suburbia.

Last week, Mom decided to do a little house cleaning.  It was definitely "a little," as with the Slob Little Lad and Slob Middle Lad, Mom spent most of the time picking up all their ____ . I simply can't express the words that Mom used to convey her appreciation of how much time and energy she spent picking up after Slob Little Lad and Slob Middle Lad.  Strange, Mom rarely complains about picking up after Me and Pennie, when she neatly bags up all our solid waste into green biodegradable waste bags that she deposits into the trash.

Mom had no intention of ever, ever, picking up after Slob Little Lad and Slob Middle Lad, but she finally decided that the house simply HAD to be dusted and vacuumed.  Mom:  Zero.  Slob Lads:  Win!

Anyhoodles, Mom left out the can of Lemon Pledge dusting spray.  The next day, while the Slobs were at home and supposed to be supervising Wee Lass while Pennie and I took Mom for some much-needed exercise; Wee Lass found the can of Lemon Pledge dusting spray.  Wee Lass busied herself by attempting her OWN cleaning projects.  When Mom returned from her exercise, the house had a strange, lemony odor.

Wee Lass used the Lemon Pledge on the wood staircase.  Mom immediately discerned this when Mom attempted to ascend the staircase, and rapidly found herself instead, DE-scending the staircase.  Mom cleaned off each individual stair, one at a time, several times, to remove all (so she thought) of the Lemon Pledge.

TODAY, Dad discovered the ONE spot of the 3rd stair from the top that still had Lemon Pledge spray on it.  Dad RAPIDLY descended the staircase.  He landed in a heap in the foyer.  Dad had back surgery back in 2000, and his back has always had to be treated tenderly since.

PENNIE, yes Nurse Pennie, Alpha Pennie:  PANICKED.  She paced nervously around fetal-positioned Dad.

Who sprang into action:  Sophie, Dog of Action.  Queen Sophine.

I immediately assessed Dad's vital signs by poking my nose into his face.  When he pushed my snout away, I knew he was at least alive.  This also flipped Dad over onto his back.  I laid half my body over Dad's chest, with one Dainty Sophie Paw right in the middle, ready to do Chest Compressions.

Pennie still paced.

Mom arrived in the foyer, but I had the situation well in Paw.  I alternated between laying with one paw on Dad's chest, ready to do chest compressions, and my snout in Dad's face, assessing Dad's breathing.

Dad has spent the last several hours laying on the couch, with me not leaving his side.

Really, I don't know what has happened to Pennie.  I think she may now be Alpha-Minus Pennie and I am no longer Beta Sophie, but Beta-Plus Sophie.

I am quite sure that Pennie is suffering from depression at Oldest Lad moving away.  It is a shame to see her lose it, but then again, I AM rising to the occasion!]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Failing to appreciate the Sophie Essence</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/820902</link>

				<pubdate>Mon, 25 Mar 2013 12:42:26 PDT</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/820902</guid>
		<description>This morning I discovered Mom sitting in HER Chair, with Pennie atop of Mom.  Mom was holding Pennie ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ This morning I discovered Mom sitting in HER Chair, with Pennie atop of Mom.  Mom was holding Pennie extra close, for comfort as she thought of some Bad Things.  I decided to climb atop of Pennie and Mom.  Then I got down, found a deer antler gnaw, and climbed back atop Pennie and Mom.  I managed to wedge the deer antler gnaw right under Mom's collar bone, and proceeded to enjoy a good gnaw AND a good snuggle.  Mom failed to appreciate the soothing comfort of the rhythmic grinding sensation of the deer antler gnaw pressing into her clavicle.

Eventually, Mom decided she no longer wished to meditate upon the deer antler gnaw grinding into her clavicle, and she took the gnaw away from me.

I decided to hop back upon Mom, and this time I perched in one of my favorite positions:  Sophie bottom firmly wedged under Mom's chin, perched upon Mom's shoulder and upper chest.  Despite being in a somewhat head-down position, I was rapidly able to achieve Snoring Sophie Status.

Mom soon had to get up to fetch Wee Lass.  That is when she noticed that I had left her a wonderful gift:  Sophie Essence.  Upon Mom's fleece were two luxuriously-smelling spots of Sophie Essence.  Yesterday I had been banished to my grate because I was acting dangerously close to become Exploding Sophie.  Nothing ever came of the threat, however, apparently my System indeed was upset, and I was experiencing a bit of Sophie Essence Leakage.

Mom was not amused.  She was not even thankful!

She dashed upstairs and changed her t-shirt and fleece before heading off to fetch Wee Lass.

I truly fail to understand this woman who claims to be my Mother.  I feel dangerously close to wishing to deny her any of my Sophie Essence, but I shall not.  I am far too interested in Mom's well-being to deny her of any part of me; I am simply that generous.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>My royal bearing</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/818434</link>

				<pubdate>Sun, 3 Mar 2013 03:49:05 PST</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/818434</guid>
		<description>Mom and Dad left for the entire day on Saturday, leaving Pennie and ME in charge.  When Mom and Dad  ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ Mom and Dad left for the entire day on Saturday, leaving Pennie and ME in charge.  When Mom and Dad returned home, they just KNEW that something had happened due to the over-enthusiastic greetings that we both gave them.

If only Pennie and I could talk.

Mom had been forced to wear "real" clothes to her day's outing.  When she changed she allowed Wee Lass to try on her String of Pearls.  Wee Lass stood in front of the mirror and admired herself, but was disappointed when she learned the pearls who not be hers for many years.  Dad insisted that Pennie then try on the pearls.  Pennie did look lovely, but was not impressed.

Dad then insisted that Mom adorn my beautiful Brindle Queen Sophine neck with the pearls.

Here's the thing:  the pearls just looked totally naturally laying upon my neck, as if they were MEANT to be there.

Of course.  I am Queen Sophine.  I am a dog meant to wear pearls.  Sadly, I was forced to abdicate my royal throne and sent to the shelter exile.  I am clearly meant to be thankful that I did not suffer the same fate as other royalty that has abdicated and been sent into exile.  Abdication and Exile did not have a happy ending for Tsar Nicholas II of Russia and his family.  I suffered as Rental Dog Sophie, then Rent-to-Own Sophie and am expected to live out my life as Queen Sophine of Suburbia.  With no Pearls, even though it is clear that my gorgeous brindle neck is meant for pearls.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Sophie Meditation and The Breath</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/817846</link>

				<pubdate>Tue, 26 Feb 2013 11:34:09 PST</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/817846</guid>
		<description>Mom has been at it again with some CD that she is listening to by some famous dude named Jon Kabat-Z ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ Mom has been at it again with some CD that she is listening to by some famous dude named Jon Kabat-Zinn.  This Kabat-Zinn guy has several books and CDs devoted entirely to this:  The Breath.

The Breath?  Come on.  Us dogs have known about The Breath ever since we have been dogs.  The Breath is what we do.  It is why we are grounded and capable of living in the Present Moment.  We don't need some earbuds and an MP3 player to focus on The Breath.  We focus on The Breath all day long.

Mom has currently been listening to this CD that encourages her to focus on The Breath and to do a "Body Scan."  Pawsonally, if Mom would only allow me to put those earbuds into my ears, I'd like to know what Mom is REALLY listening to.  I bet Mom is secretly listening to instructions on how middle-aged women can take their mini-vans, hack into all their husband's finances, and escape to where no bloodhound can ever find them.

"Body Scan."  I do a "Body Scan" continually all day.  I am very mindful of myself.  I am fully capable of living in the Present Moment, and focusing on The Sophie.

When Mom does HER "Body Scan," she lays on the bed, and then I immediately jump on top of her, wedge myself up by her crotch, fall asleep and begin to snore, loudly.  It helps Mom to focus on her bodily sensations, by feeling the weight of me on her crotch, and the noise of my snoring.  Pennie then shoves herself into the lower part of Mom's legs, ensuring that Mom's legs are hyperextended throughout the "Body Scan."  The "Body Scan" is intended to help with pain management, and keeping Mom's legs crushed and hyperextended make sure there is always pain for Mom to manage during her "Body Scan."

Next week Mom is supposed to add Yoga to the "Body Scan."  Pennie loves when Mom does Yoga. Pennie likes to help Mom focus on Mom's Yoga positions by inserting her cold, wet dog nose into Mom's private parts, just as Mom has gotten balanced into her Yoga position.

As for the "Body Scan," other than Mom laying with Pennie and me compressing her, I don't see Mom moving.  However, when I do MY Sophie Body Scan this is what I do:  My favorite part to Body Scan is of course my private parts.  I can Body Scan and focus The Breath on them all day.  I lick and lick and Breathe on myself for hours.  Then I move to my paws, licking and breathing, breathing and licking.  I lick and breathe on all parts of my body.  I don't need an MP3 player, earbuds, or some over-educated expert to guide me through my Sophie Body Scan Meditation.  I do it all alone, continually, and I even share The Breath with the whole household.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Glory Hounds</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/817540</link>

				<pubdate>Sat, 23 Feb 2013 10:20:50 PST</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/817540</guid>
		<description>I watched &quot;Glory Hounds,&quot; on Animal Planet, with Mom.  I thoroughly enjoyed the show, and it made me ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ I watched "Glory Hounds," on Animal Planet, with Mom.  I thoroughly enjoyed the show, and it made me feel particularly patriotic.

This is what I did not like:  being called lazy.  Yes.  Perhaps I am not a "Glory Hound," but I do earn my kibble.
Let me get back with how it is that I earn my kibble; I have to think about it, perhaps while I am taking my afternoon nap on the couch.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Available:  One used brindle girrrl</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/815922</link>

				<pubdate>Tue, 12 Feb 2013 18:06:29 PST</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/815922</guid>
		<description>I think that the meaning is clear:  I shall have to find a new home.  Mom has it in for me.

I rea ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ I think that the meaning is clear:  I shall have to find a new home.  Mom has it in for me.

I really don't know where I shall find a home suitable to the complicated needs of taking care of ME, Queen Sophine.  The conditions here have been barely adequate; I've have barely the attention that I need to thrive.

Pennie could survive in the Great Outdoors.  She would thrive hunting for her own meals, enjoying the gamey taste of mole, rabbit, and field mouse.  I have a more delicate palate.  I prefer human food, or at the very least, human cast off food.  Being short and delicate-pawed, it is unlikely that I would be able to turn over one of the giant Suburbia-sized trash cans in order to feed myself.

What has brought me to this lowly state?

First there was the incident in which Mom attempted to smother me with the pillow.  She still "claims" that it was an accident.

Today it was made clear that I am expendable.  Mom would cast me off in order to save someone higher in the family.

Pennie and I took Mom for a walk today.  We were minding our own business, when out of nowhere a Killer Terrier attacked!  It was as if the Killer Rabbit from "Monty Python and the Holy Grail" had emerged from the streets of Suburbia.  As I did not have the Holy Hand Grenade of Antioch at my disposal, I was forced to endure this 10 pound black reign of terror.

This Killer Terrier was not only vicious, it was stupid.  It was biting and attacking Pennie. Pennie was rapidly becoming enraged, and Mom was certain that Pennie would dispatch that Killer Terrier in one bite.

This is what Mom did:  She sacrificed ME, Sophie.  Yes, she grabbed Pennie extremely securely, to prevent Pennie from responding to the vicious attacks of the Killer Terrier.  In the meantime, I was left defenseless, left forsaken by my own Mother.

This is what Mom claims:  She claims that Pennie would have killed or wounded that Killer Terrier with just one bite if that Killer Terrier had kept biting Pennie.  Mom claims that she knew that I was capable of far more restraint, and if I chose to defend myself, that I would not maim the Killer Terrier.  In other words, Mom not only chose me as expendable, but she thinks I am a defenseless wimp, as well.

I have no choice but to consider myself available for re-homing, if I can only find a home capable of giving me the utter adoration that I require.  In the meantime, I plan to make Mom feel as guilty as possible.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Mom tried to do me in.</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/815233</link>

				<pubdate>Thu, 7 Feb 2013 05:50:01 PST</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/815233</guid>
		<description>Last night I was peacefully snoring away in the most coveted of Sophie Slumber Spots:  Once Dad had  ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ Last night I was peacefully snoring away in the most coveted of Sophie Slumber Spots:  Once Dad had fallen asleep and I heard him snoring, I used Stealth Sophie Tactics to sneak between Dad and Mom.  I was curled in a tight little Sophie Ball, close enough to Dad's back to be gently rocked and rolled by his snoring, but tight against Mom's upper torso, close enough to feel secure in her love.  I was of course violating Dad's rule of no dogs touching him while he sleeps, but as long as he is asleep, how is he to know?  If he awakens, then he makes me move to my usual spot, between Mom's legs.  

I would like to give Mom the benefit of the doubt:  she usually has to feel around to figure out if it is Dad or a Dog sleeping next to her.  With Dad's Eastern European heritage, he is not just covered in hair; he is covered in a pelt.  Mom has to feel around for a balding head.  Poor Dad's pelt of hair has all migrated Southward.  What makes it worse for Dad is that he began to shed head hair far later than all his friends.  His father was not bald.  Dad thought he was immune.  He made fun of all his friends who were losing their hair, because he was certain that his thick course head hair was there to stay.  Dad was wrong.  When he began to lose head hair, it was so rapid, he had no chance to get used to the idea.  (Mom says that Dad kind of deserves to lose his hair so rapidly, after making fun of his friends, without impunity, thinking that he was immune from this aging right of passage.)

Anyhoodles, I'd like to think that perhaps Mom just thought that it was Dad sleeping next to her; she had confused both my pelt and my snoring for Dad.  Perhaps I was in so tight a Sophie Ball that she did not notice me.

No.  I have to admit that Mom tried to do me in.

I was all curled up, snoring away.  Mom moved her second pillow underneath her right arm, against her upper body.  Problem:  Mom placed the pillow completely over ME, Sophie!  I was suffocating!  It was like one of those horror movies where the perp grabs a pillow and holds it firmly over the victim!  Mom's arm had that pillow pinned down over me!  My poor, sad, Sophie Life flashed before my eyes.  My first family that I thought loved me, but abandoned me to the shelter.  The cold, hard days of Me, Queen Sophine, living in a chain-link enclosed kennel run, lonely and depressed.  Meeting Oldest Lad and living the tenuous life as Rental Dog Sophie, wondering if I would ever be adopted and if the family would appreciated me and my need to be utterly adored.  My adoption by Mom when I became Rent-to-Own Sophie.

After an eternity, Mom realized something was amiss; and she pulled the pillow away, leaving me gasping for air.  She "said" she was sorry, but was she?  I shall have to spend the day pondering if Mom had a sudden change of heart in her plan to do me in, or if she really just suddenly figured out there was a Sophie Ball underneath her pillow.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Bed Wars/Stealth Sophie</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/813567</link>

				<pubdate>Thu, 24 Jan 2013 13:12:43 PST</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/813567</guid>
		<description>The weather has taken a dramatic turn to COLD!  The nightly temperatures have dipped into the single ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ The weather has taken a dramatic turn to COLD!  The nightly temperatures have dipped into the single digits, and with my short, although luxuriously gorgeous Brindle covering, I have been cold.

Dad does not wish to share the Concrete Queen Bed with anyone but Mom.  I have made it my goal to sleep in the middle of the bed, curled up in a Sophie Ball, between Mom and Dad.  I have grown into Stealth Sophie, just waiting until Dad is asleep, to sneak into that spot.

The other night I was laying upon Mom's head.  Mom could not figure for all the world why she had my wee round Sophie Belly on top of her head, and my Brindle Legs with their white tipped paws hanging over the sides of her head.  My head was nestled on her ear.  Then she realized that I was staring at the space between Mom and Dad.  As soon as Dad turned over and started to slumber, then I ever-so-slowly crept off of Mom's head.  One paw at a time I stepped carefully into the bit of space between Mom and Dad.  Like a Sophie Wedge, I slowly brought more of myself into that spot, until there I was curled into Stealth Sophie Ball, all warm and snuggly between Dad's back hair and Mom's abdomen.

I slept quite nicely until Dad started to snore, Mom woke him up, and then he made me move.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Trail Mix</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/813207</link>

				<pubdate>Mon, 21 Jan 2013 08:38:53 PST</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/813207</guid>
		<description>Sunday afternoon, Oldest Lad was home and Pennie and I took Oldest Lad and Mom for a hike in the woo ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ Sunday afternoon, Oldest Lad was home and Pennie and I took Oldest Lad and Mom for a hike in the woods.  Oldest Lad came home on Saturday.  When he came home, I was out for a hike in the woods with Dad.  Oldest Lad dropped his dirty laundry off in a big pile behind the couch, then he left!  When Pennie and I returned home from our hike, we were most confused:  there was overwhelming evidence of Oldest Lad.  The house SMELLED like Oldest Lad.  One might say that behind the couch it even REEKED of Oldest Lad.  But where was Oldest Lad?  Oldest Lad stopped home, but then went off to go drinking with his friends.

On Sunday, Oldest Lad returned home.  Pennie and I were faced with a new challenge for Compression Therapy.  Compression Therapy as a remedy for a Hangover.  Pennie laid on Oldest Lad, and I tasted Oldest Lad's head all over, to try to evict the hangover.  Mom was rather amused that out at dinner that evening, Oldest Lad ordered only Lemonade.  Several of them.

Anyhoodles, when I am out in the woods, I become a different dog.  Mom "almost" thinks that if she needed to find a JOB for me, that I "could" be a working dog, if I was working in the woods.  In the woods I try to hike and run AHEAD of Pennie.  I am normally content to let Pennie set the pace, but not in the woods.  In the woods, I walk with my tail up and a big Sophie Smile.  In the woods is the only time there is any evidence that I am a Cattle Dog, part of the Working Dog Class of Dogs.

In the woods, Mom had one end of the leash.  Suddenly I dashed back along the trail.  Mom was startled.  I sniffed along the ground.   I POUNCED under a pile of leaves!  Trail Mix!  I pulled out a tantalizing wad of brown goo!  While Mom was still staring in horror at the brown goo clinging to the dead leaves, I gulped that Trail Mix down, with a big smile of Sophie Satisfaction.  I can find a Sophie Sidewalk Sandwich, even when there is no sidewalk!  Mom thinks that I could never survive in the wilderness without kibble, but I have proven her wrong.

Strangely, neither Mom nor Oldest Lad accepted any kisses from me all the rest of Sunday.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>I was just being Sympathetic Sophathetic Sophie</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/812322</link>

				<pubdate>Sun, 13 Jan 2013 14:54:41 PST</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/812322</guid>
		<description>Mom has been sick, AGAIN.  Pawsonally, it does not bode well that Mom has now been ill, or recoverin ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ Mom has been sick, AGAIN.  Pawsonally, it does not bode well that Mom has now been ill, or recovering from ill for four weeks.  She did not even get a chance to shop the post-Holiday sales, as she was recovering from pneumonia, before this latest illness struck.  She did not want to be out in the germ-laden crowds during her pneumonia recovery period, but was hit by a new virus anyway.

This new virus caused Mom to have something called viral meningitis.  It actually sounds much worse than what it was:  basically a really bad headache caused by a virus.  Mom was very sick with a headache and a lot of vomiting.  Those were the same symptoms that actually signalled that Mom had the pneumonia, so Dad took Mom to the Dogtor, who said it was not pneumonia again, but that there was nothing to do but dope Mom up enough until the virus stopped causing the head pain that was causing all the vomiting.

This is what Pennie or I do when we have to vomit:  We stand up or we sit up, quite rigidly.  Then our bellies begin to heave in a most disturbing fashion.  We may pace a bit.  Our faces become quite frantic.  If anyone is about, they try to corral whoever is going to vomit out the door.  Mom then exams the vomitus for evidence.  For example, she deduced that Mulligan had consumed a metal grill pan when she examined his vomitus and discovered shrapnel.  She discovered that indeed it WAS Pennie who had eaten Little Lad's candy when she discovered all the wrappers in Pennie's vomit.

As it was my job as Nurse Sophie to provide Compression Therapy, I was anxious to care for Mom in all of her misery.

This is what Mom does when she has to vomit:  this part has been edited out under threats that there will be a Brindle Cattle Dog Listed as "Available" at the local shelter if it is printed.

I followed Mom into the bathroom.  Mom said that I was "too intrusive."  I was only doing for Mom what she does for us!  How was I supposed to provide a diagnosis or prognosis if I could not witness the entire event and the output?

Alas, Mom was febrile and no doubt was not thinking clearly.  She is slowly recovering, and I shall have to explain to her why in the future I need to be so "intrusive," in order to care for her adequately.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Stoics versus Pathetics</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/810948</link>

				<pubdate>Wed, 2 Jan 2013 13:56:55 PST</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/810948</guid>
		<description>There are two reigning philosophies of thought, here at my Realm of Suburbia.  &quot;Some&quot; of the family  ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ There are two reigning philosophies of thought, here at my Realm of Suburbia.  "Some" of the family are Stoic, and "some" of the family are Pathetic.

I am Pathetic.  Supremely Pathetic, as one might presume from a word invented just to describe Me, Queen Sophine:  Sophathetic.

Pennie definitely belongs to the Stoics.  Mom is Stoic.  Mom and Pennie are very good at Dogging Up, Momming Up, suffering in silence, and simply getting the job done.  During Mom's first week of illness, while Dad was away for three days, despite Mom suffering from high fevers and bone wracking coughs, she still managed to do the laundry, run the dishwasher, and get the Lads to all their activities.  Dad checked in regularly, of course, but he had two Stoics in charge at home:  Mom and Nurse Pennie.  As Dad said, only ONCE, but unfortunately he said it all and has forever regretted it:  "I dated sports cars, but I married a sedan."  Yes, Dad actually said that, and it seems to be one of those unforgettable statements.  Dad knows that with his Stoic (plus Pennie) in charge he can be gone for days on end, and come home to clean, fed, home-worked children.

Pennie suffers in silence.  Pennie runs this household with an iron paw, and when she is tired or in pain, hides under a desk to nap until she is ready to rule once again.

The following is he online dictionary definition of the Stoics:

Stoic : a member of a school of philosophy founded by Zeno of Citium about 300 b.c. holding that the wise man should be free from passion, unmoved by joy or grief, and submissive to natural law.

Of course, I do not believe in Stoicism.  No I am a firm believer in Patheticism.  Just this afternoon I put to good use my Patheticism.  Mom was actually curled up in the recliner taking a nap.  She is still recovering from her illness, but after getting three kids off to school, running some errands, doing 4 loads of laundry, making her bed, feeding the dogs, etc, she was forced to succumb to a nap.  I curled up in Mom's lap.  I made my little Sputnik Sophie Super-Sophathetic Sounds.  Sputnik was Sophathetic.  For all the turmoil it caused, launching off the Space Race, it really did nothing but orbit the earth emitting little beeps.  I lay on Mom's lap and emitted little Sophathetic Sounds.  Not sounds of pain.  Just little sounds of Patheticism.

Pennie, the Stoic, was napping on the couch.  Yes, Pennie was quite comfortable.  But not only did I end up in Mom's lap, but my Sophathetic little sounds caused Mom to pull me tightly close and tuck my wee Sophie head up under her chin.  Then she stroked my jowls while I further emitted Sophathetic sounds until I fell asleep.

Call me Sophathetic all day long, I think it is clear that in the long run Patheticism reigns.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Totally NON-Sophathetic -- ME Rising to the Occasion</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/809734</link>

				<pubdate>Sun, 23 Dec 2012 18:08:48 PST</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/809734</guid>
		<description>These past many days I have been quite uncharacteristically NON-Sophathetic.  One might even say tha ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ These past many days I have been quite uncharacteristically NON-Sophathetic.  One might even say that in a grand gesture of non-self-centeredness, I arose to the occasion.

Dad started out with his oral surgery, then brought influenza into the house.  Mom kept him well supplied with beverages, crackers, soup, decongestants, and fever reducers.

Then Mom succumbed to the influenza.  Without even a kiss good-bye, Dad left town for three days, leaving Mom to care for Wee Lass, who also succumbed by then to influenza, and to get Little Lad and Middle Lad to their various appointments.

I never left Mom.  I became Nurse Sophie.  Yes, it is normally Nurse Pennie who is the chief caregiver, but this was MOM who was sick.  

When Dad returned home, Little Lad became sick as well.  Dad then had to care for Mom, Little Lad, and Wee Lass, but he had ME, Nurse Sophie, as Mom's constant nurse, giving continual Compression Therapy and Naturally Humidified Healing Vapors.  When I sleep on Mom I normally like to curl up between her legs, but I was so concerned for her that I gave her Full Sophie Compression, with my body upon her abdomen and my head resting upon her chest, so that I could direct the Healing Vapors of my breath directly into Mom's germ-laden lungs.

Mom was quite surprised that I seemed to care for her so much.  It seems that on occasion even Queen Sophine can be unselfish.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Royal Laundry Throne</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/808273</link>

				<pubdate>Tue, 11 Dec 2012 12:33:28 PST</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/808273</guid>
		<description>My Mother forced me to remove myself from a pile of Dad's clean work shirts, that lay upon the bed a ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ My Mother forced me to remove myself from a pile of Dad's clean work shirts, that lay upon the bed awaiting folding. I had made a perfect Royal Laundry Throne, and was in a most comfortable long December Winter Nap Sophie Ball.

Where DOES that Woman expect me to lay and clean myself?  The dirty laundry?  Why would I want to lick myself clean and then fall into a satisfying nap amidst a pile of "dirty" laundry when there is still-warm-from-the-dryer "clean" laundry upon which to lick myself and nap?]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Zapped AND off schedule</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/808149</link>

				<pubdate>Mon, 10 Dec 2012 08:17:42 PST</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/808149</guid>
		<description>Sunday was a sad, Sophathetic day for me.  It started out so well . . . .

Oldest Lad was home Fri ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ Sunday was a sad, Sophathetic day for me.  It started out so well . . . .

Oldest Lad was home Friday and Saturday night.  My Precious Oldest Lad.  He slept in the basement, on the futon, because his room has been rented out to Wee Lass.  Apparently his reward for earning a University Degree and getting a job was to have his room rented out to another sibling.  Sorry Oldest Lad, don't let the door hit you in the A$$ on the way out . . . .  I should have known that spaces here were only "rented," when I became the proud "renter," not "owner" of an Extra Large Crate.  I am NOT an Extra Large Dog.  As much as I consider the crate to be my Royal Throne Crate, it's made clear to me that once I'm gone, the next dog in line will move on in to it, much like Wee Lass moved on in to Oldest Lad's bedroom.  "sigh."

In the basement, as cars drive up the street, the headlights hit the basement window just perfect, and a quick flash of light glares into the room.  Oldest Lad realized that each time he happened to be awake AND the room lit up; that I was sitting up, just looking at him.  My Precious Oldest Lad.

On Sunday morning I got up and Oldest Lad let me out into the front yard to "do my business."  I am a regular girrrl.  Unfortunately, as I was sniffing about the yard, looking for the best spot to deposit my royal bowel movement, I lost track of where I was.  I entered crouch position.  Then ZAP!!!!!!  I strayed across the electric fence!  I crouch ran and shook back to the house!

Not only had I been Zapped, but I did NOT get to relieve myself!  I was out of sorts AND constipated AND off schedule the rest of the day.  Then Mom forced Oldest Lad to hold me while she clipped my nails.  To top it off, Oldest Lad left to go home, and I was forced to resume sleeping with Mom and Dad, who were no doubt plotting all night long who was going to be the next renter of MY Royal Throne Crate.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Sputnik Sophie</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/807187</link>

				<pubdate>Sun, 2 Dec 2012 14:10:57 PST</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/807187</guid>
		<description>Mom calls me Sputnik Sophie because I make such funny little noises.  The original Sputnik, which wa ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ Mom calls me Sputnik Sophie because I make such funny little noises.  The original Sputnik, which was launched by the Russians and caused such a ruckus, AND launched the NASA efforts to put a Man on the Moon, really didn't do anything but orbit the earth and make little noises.

Mom says I don't really do much but laze about and make noises, much like the Sputnik, except laying on a bed or couch instead of wasting energy orbiting.

I think I work hard around here.  I clean up Wee Lass' vegetables.  She refuses to eat the vegetables that Mom puts upon her plate at dinner.  Mom says that Wee Lass does not have to put the vegetables in her mouth, but Mom will continue to put them on her plate.  It never worked on Middle Lad.  He will be 17 years old next week and a vegetable has never crossed his lips without being projectile vomited out immediately.  Us dogs thought we had fast taste buds!  Middle Lad can taste as fast as any dog!

However, Oldest Lad and Little Lad both succumbed to Mom's manipulations, and even if it took years, both eventually put vegetables inside their mouths and swallowed them, absent the projectile vomiting.  It's actually quite entertaining when Dad decides that Middle Lad is absolutely going to eat a vegetable just because Dad is the Dad and he says so.  Mom starts to stealthily begin rearranging dishes about the table, so that any still-edible food destined to be leftovers does not get projectile vomited-upon.

As soon as Wee Lass finishes dinner, I am quite good at popping right up, like a Brindly Gopher, onto Wee Lass' booster chair and grabbing her uneaten vegetables.  I also snuffle about the kitchen, cleaning up crumbs from beneath the overhang of the kitchen cabinets.  Perhaps if Mom ran the vacuum now and again, I would not have to snuffle for crumbs so often.

However, back to the Sputnik noises.  THIS morning, Mom was listening to a Guided Meditation that included listening to sounds.  As the house was still very quiet, Mom was surprised that there were very few sounds upon which to focus.  Then I began to chirp in with my Sputnik Sophie Chirps and Sputnik Sophie Snores.  Mom then spent several minutes focused entirely upon ME, Sophie, which is of course where her focus should alway be:  Sophie, Sophie, Sophie.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Sniveling Sibling</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/806518</link>

				<pubdate>Tue, 27 Nov 2012 11:18:47 PST</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/806518</guid>
		<description>Mom was curled up next to Dad, talking about some serious topic or another.  It matters not what Mom ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ Mom was curled up next to Dad, talking about some serious topic or another.  It matters not what Mom's problem is/was.  The attention should be all about me and The Woman should be in the kitchen making meals, or doing laundry so that I have comfortable piles of clean clothes to lay upon, or picking up my dog poop or attending to one of my many numerous needs.

Mom and Dad decided to let Wee Lass join them, in some overly-sentamental family type of snuggle.

This is what I did:  I became Stealth Sophie, and from the side, without Mom noticing, I sneaked over and slowly nudged Wee Lass off of sitting on top of Mom and Dad, until it was ME, Queen Sophine that was snuggled up in a family snuggle. Mom had no idea I had pushed Wee Lass off!

Wee Lass ended up sitting on the floor in front of the couch, looking bewildered and tearful.

I do not care for Sniveling Siblings, for I had not been Stealthy enough; Dad had watched the whole thing.  He forced me to move!  Yes, I was forced to move over, and the snuggle had to include Mom, Dad, Wee Lass and Me.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Sophathetic Gotcha Day and Thanksgiving</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/806254</link>

				<pubdate>Sun, 25 Nov 2012 08:13:23 PST</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/806254</guid>
		<description>I have a sad tale to tell of a little Brindly dog, forced to abdicate from a royal life in Suburbia  ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ I have a sad tale to tell of a little Brindly dog, forced to abdicate from a royal life in Suburbia to the cold realities of a Shelter, only to be rescued into Foster Care as Rental Dog Sophie, then adopted into her Furever Home.

Wednesday was the two year anniversary of my "Gotcha Day," the day that I went from Rental Dog Sophie to Rent-to-Own Sophie, and was able to regain my status as a royal denizen of Suburbia, although a different Suburb, different family.  Perhaps I expected a nibbly morsel of a treat, or a pat on my head.  This is what a got:  Sent to the kennel.  To make it far, far, worse, I knew that Oldest Lad was going to be home, yes, Officer Oldest Lad was going to be home from Louisville in a scant few hours.  Unfortunately, Kennel Drop-Off hours ended at six, and Oldest Lad was not going to be home until near that hour.  In his bereavement, he did not want to arrive at home to greet me and Pennie, only to have us summarily shuttled off to the shelter.  Instead, he chose just to have us "gone," so that he did not have to say "hello" followed immediately by "good-bye."  

Daisy, who had been staying with us since Monday, was still at the house, due to be returned to her home by Oldest Lad on Thursday, while Mom and Dad were already driving their way up to Cleveland with Middle Lad, Little Lad, and Wee Lass.  Oldest Lad claimed that he could at least sleep with Daisy on Wednesday night, in the absence of Sophie and Pennie.  As Oldest Lad shared living quarters with Daisy for two years while living with Daisy's Man, I was not jealous, just saddened that it could not be Daisy, Pennie and ME sleeping with Oldest Lad.

At the kennel, the cold steel bars of the kennel run closed in about me.  I refused to look at Mom, even in a Sophathetic Stare.  I knew that my refusal to grant a Sophathetic Stare made Mom feel even worse.  Mom had even asked Dad if perhaps I could join the family in Cleveland.  I bear no animosity towards CATS.  Grandma, Dad's Mom, has a CAT, and it would be disrespectful to allow Pennie to consume that Cat.  Still, that did not mean that I could not go and enjoy Thanksgiving, did it?

Grandma also has an overgrown Golden Retriever named Scoter.  He is an affable fellow, but not very bright, nor very Alpha.  However, as his breed name would suggest, he does do one thing well:  Retrieve.  While I certainly expected Mom to pet and pay attention to Scoter, especially in her bereavement over the holiday absence of Myself, Scoter went too far.  It was fine for Scoter to pay attention to Mom and Mom to reply back.  However, Scoter stole Mom's slipper.  Yes, while Mom was curled up in her customary book-reading-curl, that overgrown purebred stole Mom's slipper, and drooled all over it, while carrying it about the house, like a trophy celebrating that HE hiked with Mom at the Cleveland Metroparks, and HE ate Thanksgiving Dinner with Mom and HE did not celebrate his Gotcha Day abandoned. He marked Mom's slipper with his breath and his drool and his stupid insensitivity.  THAT was going too far.

I shall never Retrieve my second Gotcha Day.  It is a poor Sophathetic memory of abandonment and absence from even a chance to spend a few blissful moments in the arms of my beloved Oldest Lad.  My Thanksgiving was spent crunching cold hard kibble, on a cold hard concrete floor, with only a thin blanket from home to ward off the chill.  I shall have to make sure Mom pays for all this, but I am doomed for a bath first.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Dental Hygiene Attempted Ruined</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/805766</link>

				<pubdate>Tue, 20 Nov 2012 13:37:06 PST</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/805766</guid>
		<description>This afternoon, Mom headed to Tax Payer-Funded Public High School to pick up Middle Lad from staying ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ This afternoon, Mom headed to Tax Payer-Funded Public High School to pick up Middle Lad from staying after school for Jazz Ensemble.  He plays the Alto Saxophone in the Jazz Ensemble.  I was sitting in the front seat of the van, Pennie in the middle seat, and Daisy in the back.  Daisy is joining us for a few days while Daisy's Man visits his family.  Middle Lad decided that since he is important enough to have auditioned and qualified for Jazz Ensemble, that he thereby qualified to take MY SEAT.  I was summarily shoved into the mid-section of the van, where I hunted down a perfectly good, although pre-chewed, piece of sugarless gum.  I was intent on giving my near-perfect dentition a going over with that gum, as it is well known that a 1976 survey proved that 4 out of 5 dentists surveyed preferred sugarless gum.  (The fifth dentist preferred no gum, not sugared gum.)

As I was chewing my sugarless gum, preferred by 4 out of 5 dentists, Middle Lad, who cannot hear Dad screaming at him to "turn out the lights, for the x&2*ing last time," COULD hear my mandibles and their excellent dentition.

Middle Lad forced me to cough out my gum.  It landed in a gum wad, along with the chewed wrapper, on the inside arm rest of the mini-van passenger door.  There that gum wad lay, with me straining in Middle Lad's arms to reach it, and Mom and Middle Lad just staring at that coughed out wad of perfectly still good pre-chewed gum.

Once home, I was forced to exit the vehicle and Mom obtained a wipe to remove the gum wad.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>What about Sophie?</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/805612</link>

				<pubdate>Mon, 19 Nov 2012 08:21:17 PST</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/805612</guid>
		<description>Yesterday Mom decided that it would be nice to go for a walk with Pennie, Me, Dad and Wee Lass.  Unf ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ Yesterday Mom decided that it would be nice to go for a walk with Pennie, Me, Dad and Wee Lass.  Unfortunately, Mom could only find one leash.  Mom hooked Pennie up with the leash, and there I was, just standing Sophathetic in the garage; no leash.  Upon interrogation, Dad confessed that the other leash was in his orange convertible, which he had parked up the street while he worked in his Garage.  Dad then took Pennie, on her leash, out and gave her an R-I-D-E, while he fetched the orange convertible, and the leash.   Meanwhile, I was still left standing, unleashed, and not getting to go for an R-I-D-E.

Mom noticed how Sophathetic that I looked, and gave me plenty of rubs, but still, my Sophie feelings were hurt.  It's always the same story -- us quiet, well behaved dogs just get left behind while the loud, boisterous dogs get all the attention.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Egregious Error</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/804163</link>

				<pubdate>Tue, 6 Nov 2012 09:04:09 PST</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/804163</guid>
		<description>It has been painfully brought to my attention, that I mistakenly wrote in my last diary entry that i ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ It has been painfully brought to my attention, that I mistakenly wrote in my last diary entry that it was "Oldest Lad," who was the perpetrator of the crime of leaving Pizza Crusts in the Simple Human Trash Can.

It was NOT Oldest Lad.  It was Middle Lad.  Oldest Lad reminded me that even though he no longer lives here; HE IS STILL OLDEST LAD.  He would prefer Officer Oldest Lad.  I shall acquiesce to Oldest Lad, but not "Officer" Oldest Lad.

Oldest Lad most assuredly thinks that in his absence I have allowed Middle Lad to move up the chain of command into "Oldest" position.  That is not so.  While I am a shallow, self-centered dog and have moved on to find other comforts -- unlike Pennie, who still actively pines for Oldest Lad; as soon as Oldest Lad reappears I assure him I will give him my undivided attention and spurn all who have comforted, cared, and expressed their utmost adoration for me, in Oldest Lad's absence.  Meanwhile, Pennie remains fixed in her undying love and devotion to Oldest Lad, and comforts herself only the best she can, making sure that all who comfort her know that her heart still belongs to Oldest Lad, while my heart is fickle.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Do Not Underestimate Queen Sophine</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/803881</link>

				<pubdate>Sun, 4 Nov 2012 05:59:19 PST</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/803881</guid>
		<description>Do not underestimate ME, Queen Sophine.  My family has not been &quot;overly impressed&quot; with my intellige ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ Do not underestimate ME, Queen Sophine.  My family has not been "overly impressed" with my intelligence.  They view me as the most self-centered dog they have had to date.

I don't care.  First off, I am too self-centered to care, and second off, I save displays of my stores of intelligence for important occasions.

My Mom enjoys some rather simple pleasures in her life.  She is very proud that back when she had Mulligan, she was able to find a dog-proof kitchen trash can.  When Mom had the kitchen remodeled, the kitchen designer insisted that the kitchen trash be placed inside a cabinet.  Mom just as firmly insisted that she was NOT having her kitchen trash be placed inside a cabinet, because she did not want to have to open a cabinet, thereby soiling the cabinet, every time she wished to throw something away.  Since Dad was footing the kitchen remodel bill, Mom won the argument.

Mom found this:  Simple Human 30 liter / 8 gallon classic rectangular step can brushed steel.  It takes a size "J" liner (these trash cans are far too fancy to take a "trash bag," they take "liners.")  Mom loves the way the "J" liners line the plastic insert of the trash can just perfect, neatly, with a pleasing fold at the top.

Mulligan found that he was unable to Dumpster Dive into the Simple Human can, or even to knock it over.  No more coming home from an outing to discover the contents of the kitchen trash strewn about the house, with a contented dog, and an unhappy Mom.

Last night, while Mom and Dad were out, Oldest Lad made his usual DiGiorno Four Cheese Rising Crust Pizza.  Oldest Lad does does not eat the pizza edges.  He wastes them!  Oldest Lad threw the Pizza Edges into the Trash!

This is what I, Queen Sophine learned to do:

I took one of my delicate, white furred paws, stepped onto the step of the Simple Human trash cans, and the lid popped open.  Right there on top, were delicious, cast-off pizza edges.  I snacked on those pizza edges.

My regret is that I am not taller.  Now that I have learned how to paw open the step to the Trash Can, anything that is at the "top" of the trash is now MINE, ALL MINE.  I have defeated Mom and her so-called dog-proof Simple Human Trash Can with it's perfectly fitting "J' liners as well.  I feel quite accomplished.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Halloween Truth, it's horrible</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/803379</link>

				<pubdate>Wed, 31 Oct 2012 08:22:49 PDT</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/803379</guid>
		<description>Last night Mom and Dad were talking, and Mom told Dad that she &quot;felt safe with him.&quot;  Mom has been w ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ Last night Mom and Dad were talking, and Mom told Dad that she "felt safe with him."  Mom has been working a lot on some bad things that happened in her past with a very bad man, so she was acknowledging that he has stood by her while she deals with all this.
Dad said that he felt safe with Mom, too.
Oh, it was so, nice and sweet, and I just snuggled right in, hoping that Dad would not notice that instead of hugging just Mom, that he was hugging Mom AND Sophie.

Then Dad said that "he felt safe with Sophie, too."

Mom said, "why?" I am well known to be Sophathetic, so I was really not disturbed yet.

Dad said he felt "safe with Sophie, because Sophie would bark, bark, bark, at any monsters, and that would distract the monsters, giving Mom and Dad a chance to run away."

Oh.  So in the case of a Monster, or THE Zombie Apocalypse, I shall be thrown to the Monster, or the Zombies, so that Dad can escape.

Thanks, Dad.

I am NOT feeling very safe now.  Despite being thankful that Mom already said that she was not taking me out for Humiloween because 1.  it is too cold and wet and I'd be miserable and Sophathetic, and 2.  Pennie and I would get too muddy and then we'd need Humiloween baths.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Preschool Drop-out</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/803133</link>

				<pubdate>Mon, 29 Oct 2012 12:19:35 PDT</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/803133</guid>
		<description>I have been asked to leave the Preschool Drop-Off/Pick-Up Line.  Yes, I Queen Sophine, am a Preschoo ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ I have been asked to leave the Preschool Drop-Off/Pick-Up Line.  Yes, I Queen Sophine, am a Preschool Drop-Out.

Every Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday morning, Pennie and I get up with Little Lad and Wee Lass, and then Storm the Utility Room in order to jump into the mini-van and go along for the ride to drop Wee Lass off at preschool.  On the drive over, Pennie and I sit in the front seat, looking out as we pass the Public Elementary School, to determine if the Sheriff is watching and will catch any drivers not obeying the School Speed Limit Flashing Yellow Sign.  The Sheriff sometimes even catches a School Speed Limit Violator!  As we pass the Public Elementary School itself, we bark at any Walkers -- students who do not board the yellow school bus.  In particular we like to bark, bark, bark, at any Walkers who are being escorted to school by a parent and a dog.

Once we pass the Public Elementary School, it's on to Preschool.  We get in line, with all the other cars, and wait for our turn to discharge our Preschooler, Wee Lass.

I love to jump from the front seat into the middle part of the mini-van just as Mom is opening the mini-van door to let Wee Lass out to be escorted up the sidewalk into Preschool.  Then Wee Lass is forced to climb over me, Queen Sophine, as she attempts to get out of the van.  There are FOUR Preschool teachers.  They are all smitten by my beauty and brindle-ness.  Wee Lass is forced to climb over top of me, because whichever teacher that is waiting to escort her must first pat my furry head, and murmur about my utter beauty.  Pennie sometimes sticks her noggin out from the front seat, and gets her head patted as well.

Last week there was a SUBSTITUTE.  I did not recognize this Substitute Preschool Teacher/Escort.  How was I to know if she had a proper background check?  I was startled that she did not want to pat my head and become enraptured by brindleness beauty.  So I barked at her.  It startled her.

Mom got a call today asking that "no dogs accompany her to Preschool Drop-Off/Pick-Up."  No more Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday morning rides to and from Preschool.

Mom did not even come to my defense.  She said that she did not want anyone to be scared, and that if her dogs scared someone, then she would leave them at home.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Oldest Lad Visit</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/802105</link>

				<pubdate>Sun, 21 Oct 2012 15:27:32 PDT</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/802105</guid>
		<description>Oldest Lad visited on Friday night, into Saturday, and he went to the brand new Jungle Jim's grocery ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ Oldest Lad visited on Friday night, into Saturday, and he went to the brand new Jungle Jim's grocery store.  He bought a gigantic PIZZLE for me (and one for Pennie.)

Mom said that there would be NO Pizzles on the bed.  I guess since Dad was out of town, when Mom said No Pizzles, she wanted the bed completely Pizzle-free.

The Pizzle had to be about 30 inches long.  I gnawed and gnawed, and gnawed some more.  Mom did not have to worry about any pizzles in bed because my jaw was exhausted by then, and all I could do was jump up on the bed, to rest up to pizzle-gnaw some more on Sunday.  (Is it OK to pizzle gnaw on Sundays?)]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Banish-ed.</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/801266</link>

				<pubdate>Sun, 14 Oct 2012 07:59:45 PDT</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/801266</guid>
		<description>Last night was a Watershed event here at my Realm of Suburbia:  Middle Lad went to the Homecoming Da ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ Last night was a Watershed event here at my Realm of Suburbia:  Middle Lad went to the Homecoming Dance.  WITH a GIRL.  He got all dressed up in a cheap suit, hand-me-down white shirt, and a new tie. (Mom refused to buy an expensive suit for someone who is "still growing.") He looked quite good, considering.

As Middle Lad is not yet "licensed," and neither Pennie nor I were willing to loan him one of our County Licenses, Dad had to perform the Chauffer Services.  Dinner took less time than estimated, so there was time between dinner and "the dance."  Dad brought Middle Lad and GIRL home to hang out in the interim.

I, Queen Sophine, was BANISH-ED.

As soon as GIRL walked into the house, I tried to jump upon her, to let her know how beautiful she looked, and also to warn her that from my own paw-sonal experience, the floors can be very slippery, and with those stiletto heels, GIRL better be careful not to slip and fall.  (I do not have experience wearing stiletto heels, but I do have experience with my delicate white-socked paws skittering across the slippery floor.)  And of course considering the lack of length eye-fully apparent with GIRL's dress, one would not want to see her fall and embarrass herself.  (Okay, perhaps Middle Lad would have enjoyed that, but not the rest of us.)

I was only trying to be kind, but I was scooped up like yesterday's recycling, and deposited in Mom and Dad's room!  With ONE, yes ONE, single french fry for a treat.

I spent the next hour crying and howling and expressing my utmost despair.  In the meantime, Pennie was allowed FREE roam of the house, free to snatch more french fries from Mom, Dad, and Wee Lass, and free to attempt to goose GIRL anywhere she wanted.

I don't think I shall enjoy this "dating" thing.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>My Life versus the Flooring</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/801188</link>

				<pubdate>Sat, 13 Oct 2012 10:18:27 PDT</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/801188</guid>
		<description>Mom and Dad went out this morning to look at tile for the foyer.  This is what happens every morning ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ Mom and Dad went out this morning to look at tile for the foyer.  This is what happens every morning:  After spending the night sleeping between Mom's legs, or trying to gain that coveted space of snuggled between Mom and Dad, I wake up each morning thrilled to see Mom and/or Dad, and am thoroughly excited to see them, despite having spent all night actually touching one or the both of them.  I then proceed to prance down the stairs, gleefully happy that I get to go outside, and happy to be with Mom and Dad.  I then get to the bottom of the steps where I slip and slide, and crash into the rug in front of the front door.  Some mornings, despite the rug crash-pad, I still manage to propel myself full-throttle into the front door.

As Mom was looking at new tile for the foyer, she noted that much of the tile is very "shiny and slippery."  She thought of me, prancing down the stairs, and then hitting that shiny, slippery tile, and my little Sophie white-tipped feet sliding out from under me.

My Life hinges upon whether Mom decides to pick a shiny, slipper floor tile, or is willing to go with a "rougher" tile.  Otherwise I am certain that I will inevitably succumb to the repeated head injuries that I experience when I skitter across the floor and thump against the front door.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Birthday Vomit Watch</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/797225</link>

				<pubdate>Sun, 16 Sep 2012 13:14:52 PDT</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/797225</guid>
		<description>Today is my birthday, but I am once again getting NO treats or celebration.  Pennie had no official  ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ Today is my birthday, but I am once again getting NO treats or celebration.  Pennie had no official birthday, because she was sent over to the NO-KILL shelter from a Kill Shelter.  Her birth date was lost in the transfer, as well as any idea of what happened to the pups she had recently birthed.

When I was banished to The Shelter, I DID arrive with a Birth Date.  I know not why my original family chose to Banish ME, Queen Sophine, but at least I had my Brindles and my Birth Date.

To be fair to Pennie, my family celebrates my Adoption Day, not my Birth Date; paying no heed to MY needs.

Today however, I am under "Vomit Watch."  My Mom is certain that I shall suddenly spew forth, for last night she found a big splinter missing from my favorite Antler Gnaw.  She is quite certain that I swallowed the missing piece, and that at an inopportune moment I shall erupt forth, spewing out the contents of my stomach and the missing antler piece.  I refuse to volunteer whether the piece is simply laying around the house somewhere, or if I indeed swallowed it. If my birth date is to be neglected, then Mom can spend her day worrying that I shall be come Sophie, Weapon of Terror.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Sophie Horse</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/796443</link>

				<pubdate>Mon, 10 Sep 2012 12:44:03 PDT</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/796443</guid>
		<description>Oldest Lad took Pennie and Me for a perfectly lovely hike today at a park that was formerly a horse  ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ Oldest Lad took Pennie and Me for a perfectly lovely hike today at a park that was formerly a horse stable and trail.  In the midst of Suburbia it is almost like a get-a-way; quiet and full of trees and logs and wonderful smells.

When I got home, however, this is what I got:  B-A-T-H.  Actually a S-H-O-W-E-R.

Instead of using the usual SALON Formula shampoo, fit for ME, Queen Sophine, such as Paul Mitchell or Biolage, all products expensive enough to groom my lovely Brindleness, Oldest Lad retrieved the Cheap Shampoo that Little Lad and Middle Lad use.

I was washed in:  Mane and Tail.  Horse Shampoo.

After I was washed, I was hung out to dry on the back porch.  I am quite certain the my bark, bark, bark, has turned into a whinny, whinny, whinny.  I even feel my legs prancing.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Sophie Rorschach</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/796257</link>

				<pubdate>Sat, 8 Sep 2012 16:58:39 PDT</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/796257</guid>
		<description>With my beautiful Brindle patterns and white chest and white accent markings, I have realized that I ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ With my beautiful Brindle patterns and white chest and white accent markings, I have realized that I, Sophie, am akin to a walking Rorschach Test.  The Rorschach Test is famous for it's inkblot patterns to which the test taker provides his/her own response.

According to the website deltabravo.net
"The theory behind the test, created by Hermann Rorschach, is that the test taker's spontaneous or unrehearsed responses reveal deep secrets or significant information about the taker's personality or innermost thoughts. These days most reputable psychologists feel the Rorschach is unreliable at best and dangerously misleading at worst."

This is what I, Queen Sophine think:  My beautiful Brindle Markings can be gazed upon with utter awe and admiration.  The spontaneous response to a Sophie Rorschach test should be  feelings of awe and admiration at my beauty, and an intense desire to give me a snack.  A response that is outside of those limits means that the test taker is deeply disturbed and has deep character flaws.

Therefore, a Sophie Rorschach Test is easy to interpret, a much more modern and improved version of the original test created by Rorschach, but perhaps he did not have a beautiful Brindle girrr in his life.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Focusing on The Sophie</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/795761</link>

				<pubdate>Tue, 4 Sep 2012 05:46:54 PDT</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/795761</guid>
		<description>This morning Mom got up with Middle Lad and then plugged in her ear buds to listen to her usual Mind ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ This morning Mom got up with Middle Lad and then plugged in her ear buds to listen to her usual Mindfulness Meditation Trash.  I have no way of know what she is really listening to, because Mom does not share well.  Her ear buds are strictly off limits, even to my gorgeous brindle ears.  I suspect that Mom is actually listening to Cult Chants that will eventually cause her to suddenly snap from the tenuous grip on reality that a lifetime of being a Mom has left her.

Anyhoodles, I climbed into Mom's lap and soon discovered that Mom decided to Focus on The Sophie!  She focused first on The Breath, her own, then she began to focus on ME!  Just the way it should be! ME, Sophie, All About ME!  She listened to my breathing.  She listened to the rumblings of my body.  She smelled the essence of Sophie; which was not hard as my bottom was planted underneath her chin.  Mom focused on the feeling of touching my fur in different areas, and the weight of my body upon her own.

Perhaps Focusing on The Sophie will bring about Mom's own well being, but it certain helped MY well being!]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Southern Sophie</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/794690</link>

				<pubdate>Sun, 26 Aug 2012 11:01:11 PDT</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/794690</guid>
		<description>Yesterday Mom, Dad and Oldest Lad abandoned ME to the erratic care of Middle Lad while they headed t ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ Yesterday Mom, Dad and Oldest Lad abandoned ME to the erratic care of Middle Lad while they headed to Louisville, KY to look at prospective dwellings for Oldest Lad.  Fortunately, on Friday night one of Little Lads friends called with an offer to have Little Lad spend the entire day with Friend's family.  I was quite certain that if I was left at home with Middle Lad, Little Lad and Wee Lass, that SOMEONE would not survive the day, and I feared it would be ME.  With Little Lad out of the picture, I expected not to be fed or let out, but at least I would survive the day.

What I did not expect was that within minutes of arriving in Louisville my family began to whore around with another dog -- named Sophie!  While walking on the sidewalk to look at an apartment, Mom "of course" had to stop to pet a little Beagle-mix, and then started chatting with the Beagle-Mom, and that turned into the Beagle-Mom actually volunteering at the "Old Louisville" Chamber of Commerce.  Mom then whored around with this Faux Sophie while Dad and Oldest Lad talked Louisville Living with the  Beagle Mom!

All I heard about last night was how this Faux Sophie had zero work ethic, just like ME, and just wanted to be petted and fawned over.

Excuse me.  That little Southern Faux Sophie obviously did not OWN her sidewalk.  I OWN the sidewalk in front of my Realm of Suburbia.  NO ONE treads across my sidewalk without ME giving them a fearsome bark, bark, bark!  The Faux Sophie was willing to talk to "anyone," as long as they gave her ears a rub.

I can't believe that my family cannot be out of my sight for even a day without whoring around with another dog; a Sophie Dog, even.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Then move to the couch.</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/793384</link>

				<pubdate>Thu, 16 Aug 2012 17:19:09 PDT</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/793384</guid>
		<description>Last night I was sleeping in my usual spot, in between Mom's legs, at the bottom of the Concrete Que ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ Last night I was sleeping in my usual spot, in between Mom's legs, at the bottom of the Concrete Queen.  I had my head hanging over her left calf, and I was snoring away.  In the meantime, Dad was laying on his back, with his own large nose pointed in the air, snoring away.

Mom was not happy with either the noise, or the fact that her left hip/thigh was in a hyperextended position due to me being in such a comfortable Sophie-Ball, snoring away amidst her legs.

Mom finally gave Dad a few soft jabs, then a few progressively firmer jabs, until he woke up enough to "turn over, you're snoring."  Then she grab my whole body, slid it up the bed, and laid me next to her.

I was quite disturbed from my slumber.  I immediately gave a loud "huff" of a snort, walked down the bed, and curled back up in between Mom's legs, with my head in the same spot, still warm, on Mom's calf.

If Mom is so disturbed by my snoring, combined with Dad's snoring then why doesn't Mom just move downstairs and sleep on the couch?]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Adjustments</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/792369</link>

				<pubdate>Wed, 8 Aug 2012 14:00:34 PDT</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/792369</guid>
		<description>It seems that Queen Sophine can not make any of her minions happy.  Oldest Lad has moved back home,  ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ It seems that Queen Sophine can not make any of her minions happy.  Oldest Lad has moved back home, on a temporary basis, as he is now an Unemployed College Graduate.  I assume that it is "temporary," because thus far he is living in his bedroom upstairs.  I believe "permanent" status is achieved when an Unemployed College Graduate moves into the Basement.

Anyhoodles, I started out as Oldest Lad's Foster Dog, Rental Dog Sophie.  In those heady, beer-soaked University Days, I slept until noon, played XBOX360 all day, ate Sidewalk Sandwiches from the trash strewn University Streets, and partied all night.  Then I went from Rental Dog Sophie to Queen Sophine, ruler of my Realm of Suburbia.  The adjustment in sleep schedule was exhausting.

With Oldest Lad home, I am not quite sure of the role that I play.  I insist on sleeping with Mom at night.  Then I spend all day sleeping on Oldest Lad's bed.  I have become almost a complete slacker when it comes to keeping an eye on Suburbia.  If a family member comes home, they are greeted enthusiastically by Pennie, but I am nowhere to be found.  At times I have not even arisen when there is a knock at the door; choosing instead to bark, bark, bark at visitors from the comfort of Oldest Lad's bed.  Mom says it is not very effective for someone at the door to hear a distant, echoing, sleepy, bark, bark, bark.

Pennie has made it clear that Oldest Lad is the Unemployed College Graduate, not ME, Queen Sophine, and that I must continue in my duties of bark, bark, barking at all who tred upon the sidewalk in front of my house, or knock upon my door.  Mom has made it clear that SHE expects to be greeted enthusiastically, not just by Pennie, but by ME, Queen Sophine, as well.  Dad has made murmurings that perhaps if my Work Ethic does not improve then I can just move out with Oldest Lad (if he indeed does move out,) and the family can interview Shelter Dogs for one with a High Work Ethic.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Throne Room moved for me to suffer alone</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/791975</link>

				<pubdate>Sun, 5 Aug 2012 10:03:03 PDT</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/791975</guid>
		<description>These past few days I have suffered from a upset tummy.  Mom is not sure what I have gotten into, bu ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ These past few days I have suffered from a upset tummy.  Mom is not sure what I have gotten into, but I do seem to feel better now.  In the meantime, My Royal Throne Room has been moved.  The family refers to my Royal Throne Room as a Crate.  This is a misnomer.  Queen Sophine does not relegate herself to a "crate."  Yes, the inside of my Royal Throne Room is quite austere, plain beige plastic, but that is so that I can meditate inside my Royal Throne Room and not be distracted.

My Royal Throne Room now resides underneath Little Lad's Loft Bed.  The upstairs hallway is undergoing renovation, and the crate needed to be moved from it's prominent presence at the top of the stairs, where I was able to see the front door, and hold reign over the entire household.

Last night I was forced to spend a second night sleeping in my crate, er my throne room.  I was NOT happy about that situation.  My crate, er throne room is for meditating, NOT for sleeping.  I made it quite clear through my long, pitiful, I mean sorrowful wails, that I wished to join Mom in her bed.   Mom ignored my long, piercing intonations.  How can a woman be that cruel?

Why would Mom not minister to me in my time of need?  When Mom has a tummy upset, I do not leave Mom abandoned and lonely.  I am happy to join Mom in the bathroom if she needs me.  But me, Queen Sophine, at the first hint of vomiting all over Mom's bed, or even a small portion of Mom's bed, am abandoned, cast off, to suffer all alone.  I did not know how cold-hearted my Mom could be.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Sophie Love</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/791713</link>

				<pubdate>Fri, 3 Aug 2012 08:51:04 PDT</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/791713</guid>
		<description>The question came up this morning of whether or not I love my Mom.  Oldest Lad commented that he was ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ The question came up this morning of whether or not I love my Mom.  Oldest Lad commented that he was not completely sure that I really loved even him.

Admittedly I am entirely self-absorbed.  I think the best way for my Mom to know if I love her would be for her to go make me a sandwich, right now.  Yes, I would truly love her, and she would know I love her, if she would make me a sandwich, right now.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>I am NOT Sophathetic!</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/791149</link>

				<pubdate>Tue, 31 Jul 2012 15:58:59 PDT</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/791149</guid>
		<description>Every since I came back from Camp Kennel, my family has been making fun of my bark, bark, bark and c ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ Every since I came back from Camp Kennel, my family has been making fun of my bark, bark, bark and calling it a Sophathetic Bark.

My bark, bark, bark, has changed it's tone to a much higher pitch.  My family is of course doing what everyone likes to do:  blame the victim.  They are blaming my high pitched Sophathetic bark, bark, bark on me being hoarse from too much bark, bark, barking at Camp Kennel.

In this blame the poor victim mode, who happens to be ME, Queen Sophine, my family is unable to consider that perhaps I have tonsillitis.  Perhaps I have Strep Throat, Scarlet Fever, and Rheumatic Fever, and because I am covered in fur, they will never notice the tell-tale pink rash and joint swelling until I am done for.  Perhaps my adenoids and tonsils need to be removed, requiring me to be on an ice cream diet with couch rest for at least two weeks.  Or I have diphtheria, and a sled team of dogs must frantically race in antibiotics for me and the rest of the dogs of Suburbia.

I shall surely succumbed to whatever is making me hoarse before my family ever gets out of their blame the victim mode, and then they shall be sorry.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Vacation PupDate</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/790829</link>

				<pubdate>Sun, 29 Jul 2012 06:46:17 PDT</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/790829</guid>
		<description>Mom and Dad left me at Camp Kennel for a week, while they frittered away their time at some ridiculo ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ Mom and Dad left me at Camp Kennel for a week, while they frittered away their time at some ridiculous beach vacation.  I was brave, not Sophathetic, this time, marching right into the Camp Kennel Run, and not even saying good-bye.  In the Camp Kennel Run next to me, Pennie stood up and soulfully pleaded at Mom and Dad not to leave her.  Naturally, Mom worried about ME all week, as she is used to me being Sophathetic, not Stoic Sophie.

Oldest Lad came and sprung Pennie and Me from Camp Kennel early, as he only was able to fritter away his life at the beach for a few days.  He had a deadline to clear out his apartment, and move all his belongings home, for he has now joined the ranks of Unemployed College Graduates.  I think Unemployed College Graduate is perfectly fine, and I look forward to sleeping until noon every day, then watching movies until the wee hours of the morning.

Oldest Lad insisted on giving Pennie and Me our post-Camp Kennel baths.  That is when it was discovered that I have a mysterious nose injury.  Just one perfect pink dot, the size and color of a Ticonderoga number 2 pencil eraser, on the exact middle of the top of my perfectly proportioned black nose.  During the post-Camp Kennel bath the scab broke off, and after my bath, I scooted all around Mom and Dad's bed, covering their comforter in Sophie blood.  I had to exact SOME revenge for being left at Camp Kennel, didn't I?

I shall keep the origins of my nose injury a secret.  Mom is not worried that I was bitten, or came to some ill demise while at Camp Kennel.  As I have decided to keep my loose lips quiet about how I managed to injure my nose, Mom can only assume that I did it to myself, for it simply doesn't look like something that was done to me.  My hope is that I shall obtain a permanent scar, and forever more Mom can look upon my nose and feel guilt about abandoning me while she accomplished nothing at some stupid beach.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>unsympathetic -- I have my dignity!</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/787964</link>

				<pubdate>Sun, 8 Jul 2012 10:54:26 PDT</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/787964</guid>
		<description>Oldest Lad has been dog-sitting for Shamu and that over-grown Mutt, Calbert.  Shamu and I get along  ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ Oldest Lad has been dog-sitting for Shamu and that over-grown Mutt, Calbert.  Shamu and I get along fine together -- she is a cautious, worry-wart type of dog; just my kind.  She bark, bark, barks, at everything, and refuses to warm up to anyone.  I can respect that.

Calbert is an over-grown lug with the intelligence of a lug-nut, but not as much use as a lug-nut.  He has demonstrated over-enthusiastic interest in my hind quarters, despite both of us being neutered.  When I am forced to be around Calbert, I keep my hind quarters firmly planted to the floor or ground at all times.

Calbert is displaying overt displeasure at the absence of his family.  He has chewed upon Oldest Lad's "Old" pair of Birkenstock sandals.  Fortunately it was the "Old" pair, or Calbert might awaken to find parts of his massive ears turned into new leather straps for the expensive "New" pair of Birkenstocks.  Somehow Oldest Lad convinced Mom that after two knee surgeries, only the finest of sandals would support his knee, and thus manipulated Mom into purchasing Birkenstocks for him.

But I digress.

Calbert with his massive cranium, but under-developed Brain, wanted to watch a DVD, but in his frustration decided to EAT the DVD, and DVD Case, instead of using the DVD player.  Oldest Lad now owes "Red Box" $39 for a $1 movie rental.

Oldest Lad has been allowing Calbert and Shamu to sleep with him, but apparently Calbert has still become Suicidal.  After chewing up a milk carton and a pizza box, Calbert decided to chew up a kitchen knife.  Oldest Lad was quite surprised to sit upon the family couch and discover a kitchen knife poised near his thigh.  Again displaying his complete lack of intelligence, Calbert chewed the WRONG end.  He ate the handle end of the kitchen knife, not the business end.

I don't care.  I am completely unsympathetic to Calbert's woes and displays of separation anxiety.  I am used to displays of separation anxiety.  Pennie is well-known for her forays into "Remodeling" when she feels separation anxiety.  Ever since she began the carpet-removal process in Mom and Dad's bedroom, we have been faced with ever-emerging chunks of carpet pad.  (In Pennie's defense, the carpet IS ugly.)  Pennie has many other "Remodeling" projects.  I am not sure the correlation between House Remodeling and Separation Anxiety, as I prefer to whine and cry, but Pennie turns creative when she feels anxious.

Calbert can chew upon the business-end of a kitchen knife, for all I care.  I do not want Calbert and his Sophie-Bottom-Obsessed Massive Cranium residing at my house.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Global Warming Sophie</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/787660</link>

				<pubdate>Fri, 6 Jul 2012 07:53:56 PDT</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/787660</guid>
		<description>The Tristate is under a significant heat wave, with temperatures in the mid to upper 90s, and then r ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ The Tristate is under a significant heat wave, with temperatures in the mid to upper 90s, and then reaching to 100 degrees!  Fortunately, my Realm is cool and comfortable, with the shades drawn, and the A/C on.  I do venture outside to the back porch to chew on my Bully Stick.  Mom and Oldest Lad bought Bully Sticks for Me and Pennie on Tuesday.  In yet another of Mom's archaic rulings; she has stated that no Bull Pizzles are to be allowed inside the house.  A dog towel was laid upon my back porch chaise lounge and I can chew on my Bull Pizzle in comfort on the back porch, but my one successful attempt to get the Bully Stick into the house resulted in the Bully Stick being thrown unceremoniously back outside.

Anyhoodles, with the Air Conditioning keeping the house cool, I continue to lay upon Mom's legs at night.  It is well known that for a 35 pound dog (I shall neglect to mention the few pounds I have recently stowed about my mid-section,) anyway, for a "35" pound dog I put off a significant amount of DTUs:  Dog Thermal Units.  In the winter time it is very nice to have a DTU-emitting Sophie snuggled against one's skin.  This summer Mom has been complaining about the excess DTUs.  I do fear that if word gets out, that I shall be accused of Global Warming; blamed for this current heat wave, and even the excess carbon that I add to the back and/or front yards frequently throughout the day.

I plan to bark, bark, bark at any Environmentalists that come knocking at my Realm, and as soon as Pennie has sufficiently overcome her Mental Breakdown, she shall be put back on Full anti-DTU-Environmentalist's Alert.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Forced to Dog-Up</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/787568</link>

				<pubdate>Thu, 5 Jul 2012 13:10:45 PDT</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/787568</guid>
		<description>I am not enjoying this Annual Blowing Up Suburbia Event.  Pennie, ALPHA Pennie, has suffered a compl ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ I am not enjoying this Annual Blowing Up Suburbia Event.  Pennie, ALPHA Pennie, has suffered a complete Mental Breakdown due to the fireworks and has been sedated since Tuesday night.  How can Pennie abandon her role as Alpha in order to have a Mental Breakdown?  I have been forced to take over and actually get my paws dirty!

As Queen Sophine, I enjoy the fact that the Monarchy is Dead.  Why should I care if my position is merely as a Figurehead.  I am happy to leave decision making to Pennie.  I love to lay in the Bay Window, or upon my back porch chaise lounge, and bark at the wildlife that wanders into my Backyard Realm.  Why do I care if the Deer eat all of Mom's Hostas?  I do my Queenly duty and bark, bark, bark, at them, letting them know that I do see them, that I am Queen Sophine, and that I disapprove of their actions.  I am very good at looking disapproving and regal.

Pennie is simply going to have to get over whatever mental problems she is having and get back to work.  I am not cut out to be a working dog.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>No JackKnife Sophii</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/785725</link>

				<pubdate>Sat, 23 Jun 2012 07:13:37 PDT</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/785725</guid>
		<description>Mom has resumed her relationship with the Wii Fat Plus, er, Wii Fit Plus.  Pennii likes Mom to use t ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ Mom has resumed her relationship with the Wii Fat Plus, er, Wii Fit Plus.  Pennii likes Mom to use the Wii Fat.  Pennii lays upon the futon and murmurs encouraging words at Mom, except when Mom is doing "Super Hula Hoop."  During "Super Hula Hoop," Pennii likes to suddenly goose Mom in the arse with Pennii's cold, over long wet nose.  This makes Mom move those hips faster.  Pennie thinks that if Mom is in better "shape," that Mom will have better endurance for Walks and playing "Fetch" with Pennii.

I think the Wii Fat is a stupid waste of time.  In fact, I WANT Mom to be Soft and Fleshy.  A Soft and Fleshy Mom is far, far, more comfortable surface upon which to take a nap.

I am usually banished from the basement while Mom uses the Wii Fat.  It is well known that once I find a place to nap, then I might as well be left alone, because even if I am moved, I will return over and over again to that nap spot, no matter how much inconvenience I cause.

On Friday, Wee Lass let me down into the basement while Mom was using the Wii Fat.  I decided that the perfect Nap Spot was right next to the Wii Balance Board.  That was fine, until Mom was all set to do the "JackKnife" exercise.  Then I decided that a perfect place to nap would be ON Mom's soft and fleshy belly.  Of course, a Sophii laying in the exact target spot of the JackKnife was not going to work, unless I was going to get JackKnifed right into oblivion OR Mom was going to give up.  Mom MOVED me.  She moved me over to the futon, and when I returned, in the middle of one of Mom's JackKnifes, over to laying on Mom's soft and fleshy belly, she pushed me away!

I may trade my gnaw bone in for chewing up the Wii Balance Board.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Electrical Protection</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/785205</link>

				<pubdate>Tue, 19 Jun 2012 14:42:42 PDT</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/785205</guid>
		<description>This afternoon there was a knock on the door and a badged, uniformed employee of the local Gas and E ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ This afternoon there was a knock on the door and a badged, uniformed employee of the local Gas and Electrical Company was on the door step, explaining that he, as per the previously sent postcard, was here to fiddle around with the electric and gas meters.

Shockingly, Pennie was all about being "Hostess Pennie."  These past weeks of Exploding Suburbia have certainly given her Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, for it is not at all like Pennie to simply allow a strange man into the house without complete inspection.  I further conjecture that perhaps Pennie may have been suffering from some psychological giddiness and relief that her Annual Veterinary Molestation, which occurred this morning, was over, and Pennie was just not herself.

It was up to ME, Queen Sophine, to protect my Queenly Realm of 0.46 Acres!

Certainly the Gas and Electric Man "looked" authentic enough, in his official looking hard-hat and badge and jump suit.  But I was not to be fooled.  No, I gave him the full bark, bark, bark treatment.  I followed him around the house as he turned on our stove -- all four burners (!), manipulated our thermostat, and even turned off the pilot light to our furnace and hot water heater!

In the meantime, Pennie had found another Gas and Electric Man in the front yard and was getting a Butt Rub!  Most Un-Pennie-Like Behavior.

I stood full guard the entire time the Gas and Electric Men were within my Realm, and gave full attention to bark, bark, barking.  I am most disturbed that Pennie, Dependable Pennie, who is quick to perceive any dangers, was having an emotional melt down.

I fear that I shall have to lower myself from my throne in future days, and (gasp!) get my paws dirty, to serve and protect my Realm, in light of Pennie's obvious psychological instability.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Bedtime book and gnaw</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/784043</link>

				<pubdate>Mon, 11 Jun 2012 15:41:40 PDT</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/784043</guid>
		<description>Despite my status as Queen Sophine, I do realize that I must provide some services to my minions, in ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ Despite my status as Queen Sophine, I do realize that I must provide some services to my minions, in order to promote order amongst my realm.  Pennie and I are firm believers in education, following in a long line of family dogs that have pushed the Lads to read, and are now teaching Wee Lass to read.

Samson taught Oldest Lad to read.  Tyler taught Middle Lad to read and started the process with Little Lad.  Mulligan finished teaching Little Lad to read.  It is up to Pennie and I to carry on the process.

Nightly, after her bath, Wee Lass surrenders to her room for a book.  Pennie and I join her, anxious to encourage the proper mix of whole language and phonics.

I have taken to settling down on Mom's right side with a gnaw bone.  It is indeed a favorite nighttime ritual -- a book and a gnaw.  While "Dr. Seuss," is a perennial favorite, I admit I do enjoy hearing of the antics of "Harry, the Dirty Dog," while I find "Bad Dog, Marley," to do nothing but teach further ill manners to an already rambunctious Wee Lass.

Sadly, I am ALWAYS the one who hurriedly rushes around the house to find a gnaw bone as soon as I realize it is Story Time, but often Pennie steals the gnaw from me, and then we race around Wee Lass' room, tackling each other, until Mom can barely read the pages, for all the flying dog parts.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Playdate Doglover</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/783192</link>

				<pubdate>Tue, 5 Jun 2012 13:20:34 PDT</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/783192</guid>
		<description>This afternoon Wee Lass had a preschool friend over for what has been termed a &quot;play date.&quot;  Who car ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ This afternoon Wee Lass had a preschool friend over for what has been termed a "play date."  Who cares about Preschool Friend.  I instantly realized that Preschool Friend's Mom was easy prey for falling under the spell of my Brindle Eyes.  With my Brindle Eyes, I gaze upon my victim, and as they look into the deep brown pools of my eyes, the encircling brindles surrounding my eyes bring them further in, the circles causing dizziness and an inability to stop petting me.

Pennie, meanwhile, made a fool of herself, sniffing for Weapons of Mass Destruction underneath Preschool Friend's Mom's shorts.  Mom should have warned Preschool Mom that Pennie insists on a full crotch-tal inspection of all who come to my Suburban Realm of 0.46 acres.

Preschool Mom wasted at least 15 minutes of her child-free time caressing my head, my ears, and my neck, while reminiscing and becoming teary-eyed over her past dog-love, a Doberman named Micah.  Preschool Mom claimed that even after two years she was not ready to replace Micah, but I wonder if my Brindle Eyes and Brindle Love may push her over the edge towards needing to reconsider.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Mom and the Power Tools</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/782752</link>

				<pubdate>Sat, 2 Jun 2012 15:16:25 PDT</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/782752</guid>
		<description>Mom and Dad have been working a lot on the outside of my Suburban Realm of 0.46 acres.  Although I w ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ Mom and Dad have been working a lot on the outside of my Suburban Realm of 0.46 acres.  Although I would rather that Mom or Dad spend their time sitting on the couch, holding me in their laps, I do realize that some upgrades are necessary.  In particular the shades on the  screened in back porch needed fixing, as I like to lay upon the chaise lounge and look out about the back yard, but without proper shading I get too hot.

Today Mom was using the electric hedge trimmers to whack away at the front hedges.  Mom does not normally use "Power Tools," unless one counts an electric mixer, and oven, or the vacuum as power tools.  However, long ago it was determined that Dad does not know how to trim hedges, so Mom wields the hedge trimmers.

I thought Pennie was going to pace herself into a nervous fit.

Pennie has lived her since August of 2007, so she has no doubt witnessed Mom wielding Power Tools before.  What was different about today?  Was Pennie picking up on some strange emotional vibration or hormonal scent that Mom was giving off?  Pennie was very agitated about Mom using those hedge trimmers.  Pennie insisted on supervising, and on several occasions, when the trimmers were "off" and Mom was surveying the strewn trimmings, Pennie insisted that Mom give Pennie a reassuring kiss.

I decided that if Pennie was nervous about Mom using power tools, then my best line of defense was to stay inside the house, where it would be difficult for Mom to suddenly decide to trim Me, without going through brick first.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Just a Sophie Thought</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/782430</link>

				<pubdate>Thu, 31 May 2012 06:41:27 PDT</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/782430</guid>
		<description>This morning Mom drove Middle Lad to school.  This is the last day for the school year, and it is th ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ This morning Mom drove Middle Lad to school.  This is the last day for the school year, and it is the end of year exams.  He did not have an exam for the first session, but had to show up for the Band Exam. He actually did not have to take the Band exam. Yes, there is a Band Exam -- Band is SERIOUS business in this Public School District, especially Wind Ensemble, the Upper Band.  Middle Lad did not have to take the Band Exam because he performed two solos at Solo and Ensemble Contest. To exempt taking the Band Exam, he had to achieve the highest score (a "one") on a Solo or Ensemble.  He actually achieved a "One" Rating on his Piano Solo and a "One" Rating on his Alto Saxophone Solo.

Anyhoodles, on the way to dropping Middle Lad off, as I sat in Middle Lad's lap, basking in the assured knowledge that all the High School Girls milling about the parking lot were taking notice of ME, Sophie, Mom asked Middle Lad if he had "actually" taken his AD/HD medication that she had given him.  With all the excitement of the last day of school AND exams being over, AND the fact that during the Band Exam, the Wind Ensemble was actually going to watch "Nightmare Before Christmas," or some other movie; Middle Lad was fairly bouncing off the walls even more than normal with his AD/HD.

This is when I had a revelation.  I do know that I can never, ever, take Middle Lad's AD/HD medication, for it would harm me.  Mom is very careful to make sure that medications do not get left out where a dog could get to them.

However, as Queen Sophine, I am ALL about ME, Sophie.  If I took Middle Lad's FO-CUS ing medication (FO-CUS is what gets said to Middle Lad, sometimes kindly, sometimes in a fit of exasperation) think of what I could do:

If I took Middle Lad's AD/HD medication then I could spend a day even MORE Focused all about ME, Sophie.  Just think of how I could Focus upon my beauty, my brindles, and even licking myself.  I could be so self-centered that I might actually become the center.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Is that how Mulligan's head got so big?</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/781006</link>

				<pubdate>Mon, 21 May 2012 08:27:48 PDT</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/781006</guid>
		<description>As Queen Sophine, I am Queen of my 0.46 acres.  Certainly Pennie is the Alpha here, but that is quit ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ As Queen Sophine, I am Queen of my 0.46 acres.  Certainly Pennie is the Alpha here, but that is quite different from being The Queen.  Pennie is welcome to be the Prime Minister, the Four Star General, the Supreme Commander, or whatever Alpha Role she chooses to Alpha Command.  It doesn't bother me that I am Queen of only 0.46 acres of Suburbia.

Dad continues in his habit of refusal to effectively co-sleep.  I have discovered that a perfect slumber-throne for a Queenly Sophie-ball is right between Mom and Dad.  I can be gently soothed by their breath and the warmth of their bodies, while at the same time I can actually minister to them:  I am gently aiding the cleansing of their nasal and bronchial passages with the healing vapors that emit from both my mouth and my bottom, and of course my snoring helps them to focus all night long, in a rhythmic fashion, upon their slumber.

Dad is constantly pushing me out from my spot.  I have taken to laying across Mom, with my poor delicate noggin hanging over her side, in an attempt to at least still administer my healing vaporage and snoring.

I fear that this position of laying over Mom with my head hanging down is going to force my head to enlarge.

Is that truly what forced Mulligan to have such a large head?  Did he constantly hang his head over, and the force of his great ego, the blood flow, and his great vaporage just built up over time to increase his noggin?  Mulligan had the body musculature to support his massive cranium, but as Queen Sophine I am more of a delicate nature, strong, but not overtly brutish.

I do fear that I shall have to be more persistent, for does Dad truly wish for my beauty to suffer (as well as his health, for lack of my healing vapors) just so he can hog his entire half of the Concrete Queen?]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Not a Cheap Dog</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/780549</link>

				<pubdate>Fri, 18 May 2012 05:42:43 PDT</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/780549</guid>
		<description>The other day I had the misfortune of being mistaken for the type of dog that wears cheap accessorie ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ The other day I had the misfortune of being mistaken for the type of dog that wears cheap accessories.  Yes, I have appeared in a luxurious Crown and cape, which "could" be mistaken for children's dress-up items, but rest assured, those items came from a "high-end" catalog -- not some cheap Wal-Mart or Target discount bin, but a fine quality "high-end" toy catalog.

The other day, Wee Lass was playing with some cheap interlocking bead type things that Mom had secured from the discount aisle end-cap of Toys R Us.  Unbeknownst to Wee Lass, Mom only bought said items as a way to motivate the acquisition of "fine motor skills," which Wee Lass needs to hone.

Wee Lass, with some consternation, was able to construct the interlocking plastic parts into a long length, which provided Wee Lass with satisfaction of accomplishment, and Mom with satisfaction that Wee Lass was using her small finger muscles.

Then Wee Lass decided that the item she had constructed made a fine LEASH.

I do NOT wear cheap plastic leashes procured from the discount aisle end-cap of Toys R Us.  I was shocked.  I was sitting in the chair, in utter dismay at the low level that my life had brought me to, when Middle Lad discovered my misfortune.  He "mistook" my lack of jumping up and removing myself from the situation as me just being pathetic, when in actuality, it was the fact that I was in such a state of despair and depression over my cheap plastic adornment, that I was immobilized.

Wee Lass was lucky.  If she had attempted to adorn Pennie in cheap plastic, Pennie would no doubt have bitten her.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Mother's Day all about ME, Sophie</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/779917</link>

				<pubdate>Sun, 13 May 2012 13:18:09 PDT</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/779917</guid>
		<description>I thought that I should make Mother's Day special for Mom, and make it all about ME, Queen Sophine.  ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ I thought that I should make Mother's Day special for Mom, and make it all about ME, Queen Sophine. Unfortunately, Dad and the rest of the family think that Mother's Day should be all about THEM.
Pennie has pointed out that we have all completely forgotten that the day is supposed to be about:  MOM.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Medidogitation</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/778231</link>

				<pubdate>Wed, 2 May 2012 09:19:24 PDT</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/778231</guid>
		<description>It is my job as Queen Sophine to be the center of attention.  I do of course realize that Mom IS a b ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ It is my job as Queen Sophine to be the center of attention.  I do of course realize that Mom IS a better person now that she is trying to "center" herself, however, as Queen Sophine, I MUST be a part of it.  Queen Sophine knows best.

Mulligan may have invented Compression Therapy, with it's healing warmth and naturally humidified healing vapors, from both ends of the dog, but I have invented:  Medidogitation.

It is extremely beneficial that when Mom is meditating, listening to her Meditation Chants/Rituals, or whatever it is that she has on that MP3 player, that I sit upon her, and gnaw on a bone.  The focus on "The Breath" and dog knows whatever else Mom is focusing on, is greatly aided by the gnaw, gnaw, gnaw, and the gases from my body.  After all, the gnaw, gnaw, gnaw, is better than me scratching and whining at the door, if I get evicted from the room, isn't it?]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Bark, bark, bark at teenage boys</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/777601</link>

				<pubdate>Sat, 28 Apr 2012 18:35:59 PDT</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/777601</guid>
		<description>Middle Lad has two friends over today to play video games.  Every time one of the two visiting teena ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ Middle Lad has two friends over today to play video games.  Every time one of the two visiting teenage boys comes up from the basement, returns to the basement, or even moves, then I bark, bark, bark.  The boys do not seem to be doing anything wrong, other than they all could use a strong swipe of deodorant under each armpit, but still, I have felt the need to bark, bark, bark.  They must know who is in charge; teenagers must know there is a firm paw about, watching their every move, and I shall bark, bark, bark, getting Pennie all riled up so she can monitor them as well.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Starving Sophie</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/776600</link>

				<pubdate>Sun, 22 Apr 2012 07:29:59 PDT</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/776600</guid>
		<description>The Family went out to eat on Saturday and did not invite Pennie nor Me, Queen Sophine.  Before leav ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ The Family went out to eat on Saturday and did not invite Pennie nor Me, Queen Sophine.  Before leaving the house, Mom made sure that the Pineapple/Cherry Cobbler that she had made had been safely stowed inside the microwave.  Mom completely forgot that there were leftover brownies on the kitchen table.  On Friday Mom was forced to make Band Brownies and offer them up to the ungrateful teenagers as some sort of reward for Mom managing to make it through the Indoor Percussion Season.  There must have been a lot of food at the Indoor Percussion Party, because Middle Lad returned home with some actual physical Band Brownies, not just crumbs.  Perhaps that is why Mom forgot there were brownies.

When The Family returned home, it was suddenly remembered that the Band Brownies had been left out -- perhaps due to "probable" evidence that a dog and or dogs had been atop the kitchen table, based upon the crumb distribution and rubbermaid container distribution.

Mom was Not Happy.  She decided to STARVE Pennie and ME!

After my recent bout as Exploding Sophie, Mom feared that it was ME, Queen Sophine, that had eaten one or more Band Brownies.  Considering the sensitivity of my intestinal tract, Mom was certain that if I was one of the Perps, then Exploding Sophie was imminent!  Pennie has been blessed with a rock solid intestinal tract and rarely succumbs to upset after eating trash, rodents, or Band Brownies.

Mom gave us ZERO dinner.  No kibbles.  My tummy rumbled all night long.  I nuzzled Mom and ran to the Kibble Bin.  It was useless.  Finally on Sunday morning Mom relented and gave Pennie and Me our kibble.  She is still not convinced that I shall not become Exploding Sophie, Weapon of Terror.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Sophie Essence</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/775910</link>

				<pubdate>Tue, 17 Apr 2012 15:38:34 PDT</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/775910</guid>
		<description>This is what my Mom likes to do:
She takes my head in her hands, cupping my jowls in her hands.  Th ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ This is what my Mom likes to do:
She takes my head in her hands, cupping my jowls in her hands.  Then she puts her lips on my forehead, right between my eyes, and gives me a kiss.
She calls this Breathing in Sophie Essence.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Sophie:  Weapon of Fear</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/775370</link>

				<pubdate>Sat, 14 Apr 2012 08:37:48 PDT</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/775370</guid>
		<description>I appear to be back to normal after my episode of Exploding Sophie.  I spent most of the week eating ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ I appear to be back to normal after my episode of Exploding Sophie.  I spent most of the week eating brown rice and cottage cheese.  While rice and cottage cheese are both delicious, I did not find them as filling as either my twice daily Kibble Ration or the usual junk I eat just by wandering around the house and yard.

What I have discovered is that I have become a weapon of fear, almost a weapon of terror:  one fart or cough, and I am out the door!  I suddenly have a strange, mystical, manipulative power over my family members for fear that I shall suddenly explode, like a Sophie Land Mine!

I do like to go outside at frequent intervals.  I confess it is not always necessary.  Sometimes I just am bored and want a brief change of scenery before I settle back into a more comfortable Sophie Ball.  However, one cough, and WHOOSH!  I am hastily escorted out the closest available exit of the house. 

One tummy rumble (no doubt because this week of rice and cottage cheese was seriously lacking in pizza crusts and deer poop) and I am held in a warm hug to determine if I am "feeling well."

I'll be the first to admit that I did NOT enjoy my time as Exploding Sophie and did not enjoy my poking and prodding at the Vet.  However, if the reward is to be this Mystical Power as Sophie, Weapon of Fear, then perhaps I am happy in the end.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Exploding Sophie</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/774616</link>

				<pubdate>Mon, 9 Apr 2012 21:28:59 PDT</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/774616</guid>
		<description>Sunday and Monday were just not good days for Me, Queen Sophine.  As Royalty, I must keep a certain  ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ Sunday and Monday were just not good days for Me, Queen Sophine.  As Royalty, I must keep a certain air of mystery about me, some might claim that air had evolved into a foul stench even, but I refuse to reveal this mystery that caused me to become Exploding Sophie.

Midday Sunday, I detected a sudden urgency in my bowels.  This urgency lasted at irregular intervals all through Sunday night, into Monday morning.  Mom wondered if perhaps I had failed to inform her that I had a Colonoscopy scheduled for Monday morning and was in the midst of that most dreaded Bowel Prep.

By Monday morning I was also showing a sign of weakness about my back legs, and an inability to walk straight.

In my hours of need, Mom forced me into my Crate, from which I was removed frequently so that Mom could cleanse the crate and attempt to de-stench the house. (The de-stenching failed miserably, and the house still smells faintly of Exploding Sophie.)

I finally ended up at the Vet on Monday, where I was x-rayed, poked, prodded, and given medication that finally stopped me up.  I had to stay for several hours at the Vet for torture, but I did not talk.  My x-rays showed no obstruction or injury, but the blood work shall not return until Tuesday at the earliest.  Mom picked me up late afternoon, and Oldest Lad added insult to injury by giving me a bath.  (Honestly, I did need a bath.) In the meantime I am completely starving, for the Vet insists that Mom rest my poor evacuated bowels, and then I can start a diet of rice and cottage cheese.

After all this trouble the only positive thing is that at least I can look forward to cottage cheese.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Hoorah! for Picky Eaters</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/773980</link>

				<pubdate>Fri, 6 Apr 2012 17:55:24 PDT</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/773980</guid>
		<description>Middle Lad is a Picky Eater.  Most of his friends are Picky Eaters.  Mom gets exasperated at Middle  ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ Middle Lad is a Picky Eater.  Most of his friends are Picky Eaters.  Mom gets exasperated at Middle Lad and rolls her eyes at his friends.

I, Queen Sophine, like Picky Eaters.

This evening, Dad grilled hamburgers, then most of the family went outside to eat, and Pennie went outside to meet Bella, the new German Shepherd that lives across the Street.

Picky Eater Friend ate one bite of his hamburger and decided it was not acceptable.  He foraged in the 'fridge until he found leftover cold pizza to eat. (That brings up another subject:  why are non family members allowed refrigerator privileges, when Me, Queen Sophine, who lives here full time, does NOT get refrigerator privileges?)

Sometime while Pennie was outside with the rest of the family and Middle Lad and Picky Eater Friend were playing video games in the basement, Picky Eater Friend's hamburger went "missing."

My lips are juicily sealed about what happened to Picky Eater Friend's hamburger, but I do stress that I like Picky Eaters.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Not that kind of dog</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/773113</link>

				<pubdate>Sun, 1 Apr 2012 08:25:41 PDT</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/773113</guid>
		<description>On Friday night, Oldest Lad stopped by after coaching swim practice.  He asked if either Pennie or M ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ On Friday night, Oldest Lad stopped by after coaching swim practice.  He asked if either Pennie or Me, Queen Sophine, would like to spend the night at University with him.  He was coming back home on Saturday to watch Wee Lass and Little Lad so that Mom and Dad could go watch Middle Lad participate in the Indoor Percussion Championships.

I eagerly jumped at the chance to spend the night at University.  I have not slept over at Oldest Lad's apartment.  When I was Rental Dog Sophie, Oldest Lad lived in a House, "The Structure," because to call it a house was an insult to houses everywhere. This school year, however, Oldest Lad lives in a building with several apartments.

Daisy, who was our recent HouseGuest, lives at Oldest Lad's apartment.  This is what I learned:  Apartment Dogs have to learn to:  Be Quiet.  Daisy learned after a few days that she did not need to bark at every noise, or the coming and goings of other apartment dwellers.

I like to bark.  I am good at barking.  In Suburbia, I am free to bark all I want, as long as I am inside my house, because I must protect my 0.46 acres of Suburbia, and definitely the Side Walk.  It is a Suburban Dog's Foresworn Duty to bark, bark, bark, at every animal or human that walks, runs, or bikes, on the Side Walk.

When I am outside, in Suburbia, when I bark, bark, bark, too much, Mom brings me inside so that I do not "disturb the peace," and "no one calls the Sheriff."  I can then continue to bark inside the house, where the neighbors can't really complain about it.

Anyhoodles, on Friday night, I was really enjoying bark, bark, barking, inside Oldest Lad's apartment whenever I heard noises from the other apartments.  Oldest Lad even held my muzzle shut a few times!

I did not sleep much, what with all the noises from the other apartments (University students do not keep the regular hours of Suburbanites) and all the muzzle-holding.

When I returned home, Oldest Lad decided that he should spend some time with PENNIE.

What?  I travelled all the way to University and "spent the night," with Oldest Lad.  Was I then to just be "cast aside" with a promise of "I'll call you?"

I am just not that kind of dog.

I kept jumping up onto Oldest Lad, and he kept pushing me off, insistent that he was going to spend time rubbing Pennie's belly and rubbing Pennie's head.

I was finally forced to curl up on the opposite end of the couch, in the Lap of Wee Lass, no less.  And Wee Lass, weighing a scant 40 pounds, does not have a comforting Lap to curl up in.  I felt and looked, absolutely pathetic, and I say this again:  I am not that kind of dog!]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Coyote Sense</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/772367</link>

				<pubdate>Tue, 27 Mar 2012 09:05:23 PDT</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/772367</guid>
		<description>All day Monday I was acting strange.  Mom thought that I was feeling out of sorts due to Daisy leavi ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ All day Monday I was acting strange.  Mom thought that I was feeling out of sorts due to Daisy leaving on Sunday.  Pennie was also acting strangely, but that was easily attributed to Pennie going to the Vet first thing Monday morning.  In the early evening, Mom was out in the yard playing with Wee Lass, and I would NOT leave her side.  I ended up sitting in Mom's lap.  When Mom had to stand up, I would NOT get down.  I physically clung to Mom, with my front legs around Mom's neck!

Then Mom talked to the next door neighbor, and Next Door Neighbor told Mom that early Monday morning, Next Door Neighbor was awakened to strange sounds.  She went outside and in the yard across the street were two coyotes!  Next Door Neighbor's bedroom is in the FRONT of her house, so Next Door Neighbor hears more sounds from that direction than Mom does, because Mom and Dad's bedroom is in the BACK of the house.

I do NOT want to be carried off by a coyote.  Pennie would be evenly matched with a coyote, and would probably end up dragging coyote parts into the house, no doubt just after Mom had vacuumed and mopped the floors.

Me?  I am Queen Sophine.  I have STAFF to take care of Coyotes.  I am no match for a coyote, and would no doubt be quite a prize -- Queen Sophine of Suburbia carried off to her end by a coyote.

Mom is certain that I was acting strangely due to the coyotes.  Mom has been careful to keep Pennie and I supervised outside since she heard the news from Next Door Neighbor.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Illogical Woman and a new gnaw prop</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/771321</link>

				<pubdate>Tue, 20 Mar 2012 14:01:13 PDT</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/771321</guid>
		<description>My Mom can be completely illogical.

Every night I love to enjoy a Gnaw Bone.  It is my Nightly Gn ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ My Mom can be completely illogical.

Every night I love to enjoy a Gnaw Bone.  It is my Nightly Gnaw, and it is a ritual much like an after dinner cigar or pipe.  Of course my Nightly Gnaw does not cause cancer or second-hand smoke; it cleans my teeth, leaving them shiny and bright.

In fact, humans should take up a Nightly Gnaw Bone -- it would be much healthier than smoking and instead their teeth shine and bright.  Mom does not smoke, but I am certain that she would enjoy the relaxation and teeth cleaning of a Bleached Beef Bone Nightly Gnaw.

Couch and Mom Space has been much contested these last few days due the presence of Daisy, who is staying here while Her Man spends Spring Break in drunken debauchery in Florida.  While Daisy misses Her Man, she is rapidly adjusting to the Suburban Life of dropping Middle Lad and Little Lad off at their destinations.

I managed to find a spot on the couch with Daisy at one end, Pennie at the other, and Mom curled up in the Middle.  I plopped behind Mom and found the perfect Gnaw Prop:  the back of Mom's Calf.  The lower calf has a bulge of muscle, or most-likely fat in Mom's case, and I propped my Gnaw Bone against that leg calf and proceeded to Gnaw.

Mom stopped my Gnawing.  Instead of appreciating my hard work at relaxation and teeth cleaning, Mom just claimed that having my Gnaw Bone drilled into the back of her calf muscle just gave her "the willies."  The woman is just impossible.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>University Walk</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/770993</link>

				<pubdate>Sun, 18 Mar 2012 14:10:49 PDT</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/770993</guid>
		<description>Today was a warm, sunny day, so Dad issued forth a proclamation that there must be a Family Activity ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ Today was a warm, sunny day, so Dad issued forth a proclamation that there must be a Family Activity.  Little Lad received a call from a friend, so he was not forced to bond with the family.

Mom and Dad loaded up Daisy, Pennie, and Me into the Mini-Van, along with Wee Lass and Middle Lad.  We decided that we wanted to try a "new" walk, but it must be "dry" as the ground is very muddy, and it must be nearby, as we did not have a long time.  Thereby we decided that despite Oldest Lad being absent from University, as he is spending his Spring Break in drunken debauchery with other males and females of similar age, we would walk around the University.

I quickly recognized that I was at University, where I spent my Foster Days, as Rental Dog Sophie, and began the lookout for Sidewalk Sandwiches.  Despite Mom warning Dad to be on the lookout as well; I managed to snatch a few Sidewalk Sandwiches, since Dad was attached to my leash.  (It's an open secret that if anyone in the family wants to get away with something -- go through Dad.)  Mom was attached to Pennie's leash, and Middle Lad was attached to  Daisy's leash.

We quite enjoyed our University Walk, although I discovered that Alpha Pennie has a fear!  In the midst of campus, somewhere between the Lindner Building, the "Shoe," and Nippert Stadium was a metal staircase with waffle grated steps.  Pennie was NOT happy.  Daisy and I trekked won those steps happily, while Pennie sprawled her legs and toes out wide, shaking, and walking slowly.  Mom feared that she was going to have to carry Pennie down all those steps.  Finally at the bottom, Mom realized that Pennie had caught some of her toenails in the waffle grated steps.  No toenails were bent or actually broken, just chipped badly.  Mom thinks perhaps if Pennie had just bravely walked down the steps she would have been fine; or perhaps she chipped some nails immediately at the top and then got scared.  Regardless, the rest of the walk was without incident, except for having to stop at the CCM building (College-Conservatory of Music) to let Middle Lad and Dad use the restrooms.

Pennie stopped to poop just as a University Police Car drove by, but Mom already had Poop Bag on Hand, so all was good.

The hopes are that Daisy and Alpha Pennie are sufficiently worn out now to sleep well and leave me alone.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Gnaw vs Dad</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/770135</link>

				<pubdate>Tue, 13 Mar 2012 06:08:27 PDT</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/770135</guid>
		<description>The other night at bedtime, I was all ready to hop up into bed, when I realized I needed a Gnaw Bone ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ The other night at bedtime, I was all ready to hop up into bed, when I realized I needed a Gnaw Bone.  I put on my Sophie Scurry look, and headed down the stairs.  Dad yelled after me:

Dad:  "Sophie, there will be no gnawing in bed.  Do not go get a Gnaw."

I had already Sophie-Scurried down three steps, but I stopped, mid scurry.  I returned to the bedroom and hopped up on the bed.  I stayed on the bed for a few seconds.  Then I began the Sophie Scurry back down the stairs.  Again I heard Dad's voice:

Dad:  "Sophie, you are not going to gnaw in bed."

I kept Sophie Scurrying all the way down the stairs, sniffed around and found a Gnaw Bone.  I raced back upstairs, triumphantly holding my Gnaw in my mouth.  I hopped up on the bed, and commenced Gnawing.

Sophie Gnaw vs. Dad:  Sophie wins!  Paws down!]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Never Appreciated</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/768821</link>

				<pubdate>Mon, 5 Mar 2012 13:14:17 PST</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/768821</guid>
		<description>I am never appreciated for the work I do around here.  It is so hard to nurture and train up the Lad ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ I am never appreciated for the work I do around here.  It is so hard to nurture and train up the Lads and Wee Lass, and yet all I face is criticism.

Today, after school, Little Lad made a bagel, a Panera bagel, with cream cheese.  Dad called and Little Lad had to talk to Dad on the phone.  Little Lad left his bagel completely unattended.  I took one half of the bagel, made a dash under the kitchen table, and ate that bagel.

I was accused of being a "bad dog," a "pig," and Little Lad said I did not deserve any dinner.

I was simply trying to teach Little Lad an important Life Lesson.  And it's not like I ate the "whole" bagel, I only ate half.

A person should never leave their personal items unattended -- the items might get stolen.  

Little Lad carries a saxophone to school -- is he going to leave that unattended and expect Mom and Dad to buy a new saxophone when the old one gets stolen?

Food:  Little Lad was just a babe when the 9/11 Terror Attacks occurred, so he has virtually grown up in an Age of Terror.  Does he not think that when he leaves a Bagel unattended that some Terrorist might come along and put Ricin on top of the bagel?

I shall remain firm in my resolve to teach important Life Lessons to Little Lad, but I could do with a little appreciation now and again.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Stylish Sophie</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/768166</link>

				<pubdate>Thu, 1 Mar 2012 07:59:53 PST</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/768166</guid>
		<description>Not only am I Queen Sophine, but I am Classic Queen Sophine.  Even Dogster admits that I am a Classi ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ Not only am I Queen Sophine, but I am Classic Queen Sophine.  Even Dogster admits that I am a Classic.  Dogster has taken to offering up fashion articles each week, and the topic this week is:  Stripes!

"Dogster's Style Pick of the Week"
"Classic prints that never go out of style are a wonderful thing. You can feel good about investing in classic print pieces knowing that they’ll stay in your closet forever — well, your closet and your dog’s, that is.

One of my favorite classic prints is the stripe. There’s just something so crisp and pulled-together about a great stripe, wouldn’t you agree? I’m loving the way they’re punched up with bright colors and accent stripes right now."

As a Brindle, I am naturally striped.  Beautifully striped, of a light, reddish brown and a darker brown.  Therefore I am a Classic,

My only concern is:  Can I WEAR stripes?  Or will wearing stripes clash with my natural stripes?]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Helping Out Mom, More</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/767868</link>

				<pubdate>Tue, 28 Feb 2012 15:20:57 PST</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/767868</guid>
		<description>The quilt on Mom's bed is getting old.  It's also been washed probably more than it was meant to --  ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ The quilt on Mom's bed is getting old.  It's also been washed probably more than it was meant to -- seeing as there are four that share the Concrete Queen (Mom, Dad, Pennie, and Me,) Mom usually washes the quilt every time she changes the bed linens.

Anyhoodles, it is high time for Mom to get a new quilt or other top covering for the Concrete Queen.  I am certain that Mom can not just buy a new quilt, install it, and have Dad not notice it.  So she can't use the usual female trick of a new purchase:  "oh that, I have had that for ages."  (Ages meaning any length of time, including freshly back from a shopping trip.)

I found the de-stuffing of the mattress pad very satisfying, so I have decided to start de-stuffing the quilt.

I feel very satisfied -- I am practicing my paw/eye coordination AND helping Mom in her attempt to get a new bed covering!]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Doing Housework</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/767150</link>

				<pubdate>Fri, 24 Feb 2012 14:06:44 PST</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/767150</guid>
		<description>Pennie is always complaining that she works her paws to the bone while I, Queen Sophine, am a slacke ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ Pennie is always complaining that she works her paws to the bone while I, Queen Sophine, am a slacker.

I have been doing housework today -- cleaning the kitchen.

The other night Dad was making Little Pizzas in the oven.  Little Pizzas are a wondrous delight -- a crust from the store with a big glop of marinara sauce, then cheese, and added spices depending on the family member.  The best part is of course the crusts, which go to Pennie and ME.

Dad is not much of a cook -- his version of cooking usually means talking into a speaker and getting items in bags.  He thought he could manage Little Pizzas.

When Dad took one of the Little Pizzas out of the oven, the entire topping fell PLOP! Sizzle! all over the oven door, the oven seal, and then crept down between the space of the oven door, some ending up in the oven drawer below.

Dad said some words that I am not allowed to bark.

Today, I have discovered that I can stick my tongue at the bottom of the oven door and get some tasty bits; I mean I can help with the cleaning process.  It's not just Pennie that works -- no, I am working too, working at getting that oven door de-cheesed.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Fear. Maybe Mulli was a Crash Test Dog, but not ME!</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/766076</link>

				<pubdate>Sat, 18 Feb 2012 16:46:27 PST</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/766076</guid>
		<description>Fear.  That is all that I felt.  Last night Dad loaded Me, Pennie, and Wee Lass into the mini-van in ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ Fear.  That is all that I felt.  Last night Dad loaded Me, Pennie, and Wee Lass into the mini-van in order to take Middle Lad to Indoor Percussion Practice.

Imagine my shock and dismay when Middle Lad climbed into the Driver's Seat.

Maybe Mulligan was so eager for rides that he rode with Oldest Lad when he was learning to drive that he was willing to risk whiplash and concussion, but Me, Queen Sophine?  I have zero desire to be Crash Test Sophie.

Dad was sitting in the passenger seat and I climbed underneath the Shoulder Harness.  Dad was shocked, but there I was, buckled in under the shoulder harness, attached to Dad's chest.

I shall no longer go for a ride if I see it's Dad and Middle Lad.

(and for those who wonder about the whole strapping the Dog in thing:  Mulligan was strapped in, and proudly sat wearing his Mulli-Vest Harness.  Then Pennie was strapped in, but used it as an opportunity to chew through the seat belt.  The seat belt had to be replaced, to the cost of over $600, and of course the wrong one was ordered the first time, so it turned into multiple visits.  Since then dogs have travelled unstrapped -- blame Pennie if we all become trajectories in a accident.)]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>It looked available to Me, Queen Sophine</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/765862</link>

				<pubdate>Fri, 17 Feb 2012 11:49:06 PST</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/765862</guid>
		<description>I was sent to my crate today.  Yes, I, Queen Sophine, was unceremoniously scooped up from the floor  ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ I was sent to my crate today.  Yes, I, Queen Sophine, was unceremoniously scooped up from the floor and placed inside my crate, and the door was latched shut.

Mom made Meatloaf last night.  Mom likes Meatloaf.  Dad likes Meatloaf.  And it goes without barking that Pennie and I also like Meatloaf.

Mom does not prepare Meatloaf often because Oldest does not care for Meatloaf.  However, he strongly insulted Mom by letting it be known that when the Mother of one of his Apartment Mate's sends down a Meatloaf from Cleveland, Oldest Lad consumes that Apartment Mate Mom Cleveland Meatloaf with glee.

Then, it was discovered that Little Lad ate Meatloaf at a Little Friend's house one evening when he was invited for dinner.

Mom prepared a Meatloaf.  Oldest Lad was not here, but Little Lad was informed that he better shut up and consume some of that Meatloaf.  Little Lad was politically savvy enough to compliment Mom's meatloaf and proffer that Little Friend's Mom's Meatloaf was "Hard" and "Dry," and Little Lad took seconds of Mom's Meatloaf.

Anyhoodles, today for lunch, Mom was sitting on the couch eating some re-heated Meatloaf.  Dad came upstairs from his office and began to converse with Mom.

Mom's plate was just swaying in the air, her fork stabbing about emptily, and there I was, staring at a huge chunk of Meatloaf.  I do swear and firmly avow; that Meatloaf looked completely available.  It looked to me that Mom was finished, what with her plate gesticulating in the air while she and Dad discussed Middle Lad's latest school antics.

I grabbed that big chunk of Meatloaf, leaped across the room and gorged myself.  Then I was unceremoniously plopped inside my crate.  At least I still had Meatloafy whiskers to lick.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Sophie Nest Trouble</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/765658</link>

				<pubdate>Thu, 16 Feb 2012 08:09:16 PST</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/765658</guid>
		<description>I am in trouble.  While Mom was taking her shower, I was taking a nap on her bed.  The Concrete Quee ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ I am in trouble.  While Mom was taking her shower, I was taking a nap on her bed.  The Concrete Queen doesn't have any sheets or blankets on it right now, as they are "in the wash."  The Concrete Queen just has two mattress pads on it.  The bottom mattress pad is a felted waterproof type material that Mom bought back when Mulligan leaked.  She didn't want Dad to ponder the fact that Mulligan might actually leak on the bed, so she just covered the water proof pad with the regular quilted pad.  Even though Mulli is gone, Mom still figures with Pennie and Me sharing the bed, it doesn't hurt to just keep two pads on the bed.

The top quilted mattress pad has a few worn spots, where Dad's abdomen lays, and where Mom's butt lays.  I shall presume then, that Dad's Belly and Mom's Butt are the heaviest parts then, of their bodies.  That's probably going to get me in further trouble.

Anyhoodles, since it is presumed that it was only ME, Queen Sophine in the room, with a closed door, that it must have been ME, Queen Sophine, that decided to start picking and fluffing at the threadbare mattress pad spots, in order to make a nest.  When Mom came out of the shower, she discovered ME laying next to big puff balls of mattress pad fluff pulled out from the mattress pad.

This is only Circumstantial Evidence.  There is no direct evidence pointing to me.  Just because I happened to be laying on the mattress pad next to big pulled-out fluff wads doesn't mean that "I" did it.

However, it is all about Guilty until proven Innocent around here, so I am in trouble for trying to build a comfortable Sophie Nest.  If I was doing that at all.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>No wonder Mom needs dental work.</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/765092</link>

				<pubdate>Mon, 13 Feb 2012 10:10:24 PST</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/765092</guid>
		<description>Last week while Mom stopped at the Pet Store to pick up a bag of Kibble, she decided to grab an extr ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ Last week while Mom stopped at the Pet Store to pick up a bag of Kibble, she decided to grab an extra Deer Antler Gnaw.  Pennie and I still have one almost intact Deer Antler left from Christmas, but chewed through the other one, and then chewed almost through a replacement Gnaw.  Mom is not sure why the Un-Gnawed Gnaw is not a favorite.  I won't tell her.  Perhaps that deer was just not as flavorful.

Anyhoodles, the New Gnaw stayed in the mini-van for some reason, along with an alto saxophone, saxophone music, piano music, two winter coats, an old coffee travel mug, the belt parts that Oldest Lad left when he got a new belt over Christmas, etc.

I suppose I should just be thankful the New Gnaw made it into the house at last.

When Mom went up to bed, I grabbed the New Gnaw, Pennie immediately took it from me, and we went up to bed.  Pennie gnawed for a short time, and then I grabbed the Gnaw and settled in for a long, grinding Gnaw.

Mom took the Gnaw away from me.  Yes.  She said that she did not mind if I was going to Gnaw for a little while, but I had obviously set myself in for a long night of Gnawing, and Mom wanted to go to sleep.

First Mom just put the Gnaw in her hand, up at the top of the bed.  She soon felt me tugging it out from her hand, so she put the Gnaw under her pillow.

This is what I think:  Mom put the Gnaw under her pillow so that she could Gnaw on it herself, in secret.  She has been known to hide in the bathroom when she has some particularly delectable bit of high-end chocolate that she doesn't want to share with her offspring.

I think Mom was hiding the Gnaw and Gnawing on it.  No wonder Mom needs dental work -- she keeps blaming it on her parents, who did not provide her with braces, despite her desperate need for them.  But I, Queen Sophine, have discovered that Mom likes to Gnaw on Deer Antlers, and her teeth are just not up to the task.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Look who's working now?</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/763861</link>

				<pubdate>Mon, 6 Feb 2012 03:17:16 PST</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/763861</guid>
		<description>I worked very hard the last few days, for ME.

I put myself at great risk by snuggling up to Littl ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ I worked very hard the last few days, for ME.

I put myself at great risk by snuggling up to Little Lad while he was writhing in agony with the stomach virus.  Where was So-called Nurse Pennie?  Faux-Nurse Pennie fled in terror at the moans of agony and threats of imminent eruption coming forth from Little Lad.  I took off my Queen Sophine white gloves, donned a pair of delicate white vinyl gloves, and comforted my Subject during his time of need.

Then I cleaned up the kitchen floor, underneath the cabinets, by Snuffling up all the crumbs.  Yes, there I was, busy as a Common Scullery Maid, Snuffle Sophie, vacuuming up all the tasty, still useable crumbs accumulated in the space where the cabinets overhang the floor.  I have never seen Pennie help with the vacuuming.  Snuffle Sophie sneezed quite a bit during the process, as there was more than just crumbs that had drifted underneath the cabinet overhang.

So, in your snout, Nannie Pennie, Nurse Pennie, Tutor Pennie, Just-Say-No Pennie, and all those other jobs that you take on, and perform so well.

I, Queen Sophine, did TWO jobs over the last few days, quite a work record for me.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Is Mom up to the task?</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/763707</link>

				<pubdate>Sun, 5 Feb 2012 07:47:56 PST</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/763707</guid>
		<description>I am having doubts that Mom is capable of being Mom to a Queen, specifically ME, Queen Sophine.  I f ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ I am having doubts that Mom is capable of being Mom to a Queen, specifically ME, Queen Sophine.  I fear that Mom did not understand, when she took me home from my exile, at the Shelter, that I had Queenly Needs that required regular attention.  While I was Rental Dog Sophie, and living in University House, nicknamed "The Structure," because to actually call it a "House" was insulting to houses everywhere; I was able to "make do."  Living with Oldest Lad as Rental Dog Sophie was far better than living in exile at The Shelter, and certainly far better than other Royalty that have fallen from grace have fared:  in particular Tzar Nicholas II and his family.  Or Napoleon Bonaparte, who suffered either slow poisoning or unattended stomach cancer during his exile.

Anyhoodles, Mom has been focusing much unwarranted attention of Little Lad and Wee Lass.  Little Lad came down with a stomach virus.  I even managed to minister to Little Lad, snuggling up to his back has he curled up on the floor on towels, with an emergency basin near by.  Despite the overt risk to myself of Little Lad Germs, I realized it was my Queenly Duty to minister to my Subject in his time of need.  I am certain that the warmth of my body and my healing vapors aided immensely.

On Saturday, Wee Lass was extremely grumpy with a Mucousy Cold, while Little Lad remained out of sorts with stomach pains.  Mom then cut her finger on a dish that she did not realize was chipped.  While it did not require outside medical attention, the wound bled quite a bit and required a long time of Direct Pressure.  During this time of Direct Pressure, I "needed" to sit on Mom's lap.  Mom kept pushing me off!  Then Mom managed to get her wound somewhat stabilized, but had something in the oven to attend to.  She kept a gauze wrapped around her index finger, while she worked the best she could with her other hand and remaining fingers.  In between checking on the baking item, Mom would sit, gauze finger in the air.  I would jump on her lap.  Mom would push me off.  Then Mom attempted to read her Kindle.  I did not want the Kindle laying upon my back.  No, I wanted Mom to stroke my head and to hold me close.  She kept nudging me away.  She also refused to allow me to "gnaw" the deer antler upon her lap.

I find myself in a conundrum:  despite my Queenly Status, even aging Queens are not popular adoptees in The Shelter, and I have experienced exile to The Shelter before.  Do I really wish Exile again?  No, I dare not risk Exile, so I fear I shall have to continue to groom Mom to better minister to my needs, while accepting her faults.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Gnaw Wars Smell</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/763305</link>

				<pubdate>Fri, 3 Feb 2012 07:59:13 PST</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/763305</guid>
		<description>This morning after dropping Wee Lass off at preschool, Mom drove by the apartment building that burn ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ This morning after dropping Wee Lass off at preschool, Mom drove by the apartment building that burned, then used that as an excuse to get Pennie and Me a New Gnaw.  There was a Phone Call this morning from the Public School Phone Alert System that the Public School Buses may be delayed due to an apartment building that was burning and had a major road closed.  Mom decided she had to do some Rubber Necking after dropping Wee Lass off at Preschool.  The building was empty, so hopefully no one was injured.

Of course the important part was that it put Mom's homebound path passing the Pet Store.  Mom stopped in to get a New Gnaw.  The Deer Antler Gnaw is still causing Gnaw Wars between Pennie and Me.  I will Gnaw, then Pennie will take away the Antler and Gnaw.  When she gets up, I go over and Gnaw.  The constant gnawing is annoying Mom, as well as Pennie constantly taking the Gnaw away from me, and then me taking it back. Mom thinks there is enough fighting between Wee Lass/Little Lad and Little Lad/Middle Lad so Pennie and I should just try to get along.  Sorry, Mom, but that is just not how it works.  It probably won't help to have TWO Deer Antler Gnaws, now, instead of one, but it was worth the car ride.

Mom then noticed this about the blankets that are on the Blue Couch:  they smell like Pennie and Sophie Gnaw Breath.  Pawsonally, I think the blankets smell lovely.  Mom thinks they STINK!  She washed them.  She also noticed that the blankets had little specks of Gnaw Flecks on them.  Those Gnaw Flecks came out in the wash, as well as the smell, but I'm not worried. I am sure that Pennie and I can get those blankets back to smelling properly soon enough.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Gnaw Wars</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/762955</link>

				<pubdate>Wed, 1 Feb 2012 11:48:38 PST</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/762955</guid>
		<description>Pennie is being, well, as Queen Sophine, I shall simply not use the word that I should use.  I shall ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ Pennie is being, well, as Queen Sophine, I shall simply not use the word that I should use.  I shall simply say that she is being "disagreeable."

Last night Pennie and I both assembled in the room of Wee Lass for Story Time.  The chosen books were "The Foot Book," and "Clifford, the Big Red Dog."  "The Foot Book" was quite entertaining, and it was determined that both Pennie and I have "fuzzy fur feet."

I found "Clifford, the Big Red Dog," to be rather inaccurate.  While certainly Clifford seemed like an amiable sort of dog, I do not think that the human heroine of the story, Emily Elizabeth, was letting on to the true complexities of living with Clifford.  I, Queen Sophine, weigh only 33 pounds and have short hair.  Pennie weighs 50 pounds and has short hair.  Between the two of us, shed hair starts to re-accumulate approximately 4 nano-seconds after Mom vacuums.  Can one imagine the amount of hair that Clifford sheds?  I doubt that a standard vacuum cleaner bag could hold one vacuum-ing worth of Clifford hair.

Then of course is the question most weighing on my mind:  who cleans up after Clifford?  Mom gets biodegradable poop bags that come in a 250 count roll.  It is fairly easy to pick up with these bags, and they are more than adequate for, um, a larger sized dog.  What size bag would hold a Clifford Poop?  I can only imagine a Lawn/Leaf Bag lined Garbage Can to hold ONE Poop.  Calculate two poops per day.  Does the Clifford family have over 14 Garbage Cans, lined with lawn/leaf sized bags, dedicated solely to Clifford Fecal Matter?  And honestly, our local Trash Company allows unlimited trash pick-up, if one pays the higher fee, but 14 Garbage Cans (or more) of Dog Poop per week?  I just don't see this being in compliance with the local garbage laws.

Anyhoodles, I brought my Deer Antler up to have a good gnaw while I listened to Story Time.  Pennie stared at me, then she walked over and stole it from me!  Later on, I joined Mom and Dad while they watched TV.  Pennie was gnawing the Deer Antler on the floor.  She eventually stopped gnawing and got up on the couch.  I jumped off the couch, sniffed around, and found the Deer Antler to gnaw.  Pennie got down from the couch and stole the Deer Antler from me again!  This went around and around.  Finally when it was time to go to bed, I ended up on Mom and Dad's bed with the Deer Antler.  Pennie jumped up and was going to grab the Deer Antler.  Mom and Dad had enough and said "No."  Pennie was in a huff, and laid on the floor, but with her glaring at me I was too nervous to gnaw.  Mom took the Deer Antler away from both of us, and we slept in a heap, leaving Mom no room or blankets, huddled at the top of the bed.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Civic Duty</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/762579</link>

				<pubdate>Mon, 30 Jan 2012 06:26:56 PST</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/762579</guid>
		<description>Dogsters, My predecessor, Mulligan, recently wrote about the need for Americans to Save Hostess.  Ho ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ Dogsters, My predecessor, Mulligan, recently wrote about the need for Americans to Save Hostess.  Hostess is the fine purveyor of the Twinkie, the HoHo, the SuzyQ, the DingDong, the donette, oh, the list goes on.

Hostess products are:  Well Labeled.  Middle Lad is not able to go to any of the fine, grease and fat-laden fresh bakeries for fear of Cross Contact with that dreaded legume, the Peanut.  Therefore he is stuck eating wrapped, factory-made products.

Hostess consistently delivers a quality product.  Those out there capable of eating Dunkin' Donuts, Servatii Pastries, Krispy Kreme, Tim Horton's, or any of the other too numerous too mention bakery products may scoff, but when it's between the Epi-Pen and the Hospital versus a Hostess Donette, that Hostess Donette is mighty tasty.

Last night, while purchasing ice cream at the local United Dairy Farmer store, a NEW Hostess discovery was made. A big bark out to United Dairy Farmers, who for years did NOT have ice cream that Middle Lad could eat.  He still can not eat the "dipped" ice cream, but there are now several "cartoned" ice creams that Middle Lad can eat, due to a change in manufacturing practices.

Anyhoodles, back to Hostess.  Middle Lad and Mom noticed:  Hostess Sweet Rolls, cinnamon.  Oh.  My.  Dog.  As soon as that package came into the house my Sophie Senses were tingling.  While the rest of the family chose to eat ice cream, Mom must have seen my whiskers vibrating, for she opened the Hostess Sweet Rolls, cinnamon.  Pennie and I were all over Mom like Icing on a Cinnamon Bun.  We even licked the non-existent crumbs off of Mom's fleece jacket.

Dogs:  It is our American Civic Duty to buy Hostess Products and Save Hostess.  Hostess Products have a long shelf life; usually at least a week -- that means less trips to the grocery, saving GAS, saving MONEY.  Hostess Products are good for Middle Lad.  He is a pathetically underweight Nerdling, and NEEDS the fat and vitamin-enriched, well-labelled calories.

Save Hostess for America! (and get yourself some Donettes, Twinkies, or Sweet Rolls; don't worry about unwrapping, trust Mulligan, Pennie, and Sophie, the wrappings will slip on through, if ya know what we mean.)]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Stop Picking!</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/762129</link>

				<pubdate>Fri, 27 Jan 2012 10:53:35 PST</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/762129</guid>
		<description>On Saturday night, Pennie and I got into one of our little scuffles.  Dad had been working on destro ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ On Saturday night, Pennie and I got into one of our little scuffles.  Dad had been working on destroying the Boy's Bathroom all day, and everyone's nerves were a little frayed from all the constant noise.  Then Middle Lad ate some pizza and made a mistake while distributing his pizza crust edges.  Normally, if anyone is going to share something like pizza crust, then first Pennie and I are separated by a large distance and bites are distributed equally.  Well, Middle Lad broke protocol and distributed the pizza crusts too close together.  Pennie got over-zealous, and we had a scuffle.  Pennie was very sorry afterward and even came and licked my snout and teeth!  It didn't matter, I stayed away from Pennie all day Sunday and into Monday.  Mom put Pennie's Thundershirt on her as well, as the constant pounding, drilling and mayhem added to Pennie's stress.

Yesterday as Mom was rubbing, rubbing, rubbing my head and ears as I so enjoy, Mom found some little scabs.  I swear nothing sets that Woman to a-picking than a few scabs.  I was thoroughly enjoying my head rub until the picking started.  Then Mom would stop picking and rub and I would think I was safe.  Until she found another little scab.  It's not as if they were giant blocks, just little specks.  I am going to forego any head rubbing until those little scabs dissolve on their own.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>What happened to the ground?</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/761063</link>

				<pubdate>Sat, 21 Jan 2012 06:34:17 PST</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/761063</guid>
		<description>Last night before I went to bed, I was forced out into the cold to relieve my bodily functions.  Alt ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ Last night before I went to bed, I was forced out into the cold to relieve my bodily functions.  Although I returned cold and wet, the yard at least seemed normal.

This morning, with no formality, Pennie and I found our bottoms shoved firmly out the front door.  Pennie stopped at the front porch.  Apparently she plans another day of Bowel/Bladder Holding.

"Sigh," I wish had a larger bladder and less regular bowels.

It was up to Me, Queen Sophine, to venture forth into the yard.

What happened to my yard?  It was completely impossible to walk up the grass!  My poor little feet could make no purchase, and the ground was all uneven.  Mom looked out at me and was laughing!  There was an ice storm during the night and the grass had frozen into uneven shapes of slippery hills and valleys.  I could barely walk!

I managed to do my business, and then it took several minutes for me to even make it back to the front door!]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Sophie Sewing</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/760813</link>

				<pubdate>Thu, 19 Jan 2012 17:30:06 PST</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/760813</guid>
		<description>Mom sat down at the end of the couch today, and was doing absolutely nothing.  I decided that I shou ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ Mom sat down at the end of the couch today, and was doing absolutely nothing.  I decided that I should sit upon her lap, with my deer antler gnaw, and get in a good gnaw.

Mom would not let me up on her lap.  Mom claimed she was "sewing."  Middle Lad needed his Tuxedo Pants hemmed.  Of course Middle Lad does not have Tuxedo pants for some "cool" reason -- only a nerd-ly reason.  He is part of the Public School Symphonic Orchestra and the uniform is a tuxedo.  The previously used tuxedo is his to use while he is in the Public School Symphonic Orchestra, and then gets returned for the next student.

Mom already hemmed Middle Lad's Tuxedo pants once.  Right before the Christmas concert, Middle Lad was issued the numbered, student tuxedo.  Since the Cincinnati area has been covered with gloom, gloom, gloom, and very brief periods of sunshine, Mom hemmed the tuxedo pants with what she "thought" was black thread.  When Mom went upstairs to iron the pants, post-hemming, there was a brief, minutes long interval of sun peeking through the window.  Mom then realized that the thread was Navy Blue.  Banking that the preponderance of Gloom would no doubt continue, Mom decided that the Navy Blue would do until she had a chance to get black thread.

Today was the day that Mom decided to re-hem the pants with black thread, for the tuxedo must go to the Dry Cleaner.  Middle Lad volunteer recently ushered at a school event where it was asked that the students wear uniforms and Middle Lad spilled coffee all over his white tuxedo shirt and the tuxedo.  (The shirt was soaked for a long time in OxyClean and seems to be salvageable.)

I was quite insistent that I sit ON MOM, TODAY.  Mom was equally insistent that I NOT SIT on her.  Mom said that with her lack of sewing skills that assuredly if I even sat near her that the tuxedo pants would have ME, Queen Sophine, attached to the leg.  She did not think that I would appreciate having to attend every concert event with Middle Lad, attached to his pant leg.

Pawsonally I think that MY needs are more important than some Geek Pant Hemming, and I made sure to glare at Mom and make her feel guilty the entire time she neglected me.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Queenly Paws</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/760429</link>

				<pubdate>Tue, 17 Jan 2012 11:33:41 PST</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/760429</guid>
		<description>Pennie had to have a B-A-T-H on Sunday, but I, Queen Sophine did not!

Dad took Pennie and I to th ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ Pennie had to have a B-A-T-H on Sunday, but I, Queen Sophine did not!

Dad took Pennie and I to the Play Trail for a hike.  Dad seriously underestimated the amount of MUD that record precipitation causes.  Dad's boots, as well as the boots of Wee Lass and Little Lad were thick with mud, as well as their jackets.  Pennie was thick with Mud.

Me?  Queen Sophine?  My delicate paws just required a bit of a wiping.

How do I manage this?  A queen must walk with a delicate step, with Queenly Paws.  I fully exercised myself, and fully supervised the outing, but I did not stoop to reduce myself gallivanting in the mud like a commoner.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Klondike Sleep-In</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/759883</link>

				<pubdate>Sat, 14 Jan 2012 08:40:00 PST</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/759883</guid>
		<description>Middle Lad is out today enjoying the frigid temperatures of the tri-state as he joins his fellow Boy ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ Middle Lad is out today enjoying the frigid temperatures of the tri-state as he joins his fellow Boy Scouts in the annual Klondike Derby.  The Boy Scout Klondike Derby is based on the Iditarod.  The Iditarod is of course the annual Sled Dog Race, long with history and freezing cold temperatures!  The Klondike also has a long history --the Boy Scouts designed it as a Boy Scout version of the Iditarod.

The Iditarod suits Me, Queen Sophine, perfectly -- it is completely DOG FREE.

Pennie and I did have to awaken early this morning to see Middle Lad off; especially as he thought the meeting time was 8:00, but suddenly entered Mom's room at 6:55 and said he had to be at the Legion Hall by 7:30.

Pennie and I did due diligence to Middle Lad, our Sled Dog Scout, and hovered around him, generally making his rushed exit more frantic.

Then, since the Klondike is obviously meant to be Dog-Friendly, Pennie and I rejoined Mom in the nice cozy bed, and proceeded to spend morning having a Sleep-In.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Found It!</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/759397</link>

				<pubdate>Wed, 11 Jan 2012 12:14:35 PST</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/759397</guid>
		<description>Last night I frightened Mom when she let Pennie and I outside before bed.  Usually at night I go str ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ Last night I frightened Mom when she let Pennie and I outside before bed.  Usually at night I go straight out into the yard, do my business, and come back.  Last night, Pennie went out, used the grass, and came back to the door.  I was gone.  All Mom heard was strange sounds coming from the bushes.

I never go in the bushes.  Pennie goes in the bushes to hunt for rodent snacks, but I only hunt for snacks on the kitchen table, counters, TV trays, etc.  Mom started to call for me, and just heard more rustling!  She was getting worried that I was gone; snatched away by a coyote, or some other bush rustling night creature.

After several minutes, I triumphantly emerged from the bushes, with a Gnaw Bone!  The Gnaw Bone was marinating in the bushes outside for days.  It was all wet with rain and mud and just ripe for a night of gnawing on the couch.

As soon as Mom saw me trotting into the house so triumphantly with something in my mouth, she grabbed it from me!  She took one look at that Bushes Marinated Gnaw Bone and she threw it in the kitchen garbage!  She told me that between Pennie and I we got four Fresh Gnaw Bones and two deer antlers for Christmas, and she did not want that yucky, muddy, bushes marinated Gnaw Bone in her house!

I stared at the kitchen garbage can, and I GLARED at Mom.  I can NOT believe that woman is so unreasonable.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>What?  Don't Pennie and I get asked?</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/759165</link>

				<pubdate>Tue, 10 Jan 2012 10:11:24 PST</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/759165</guid>
		<description>This morning there was a second knock at the front door.  The first knock was the Dryer Repair Man.  ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ This morning there was a second knock at the front door.  The first knock was the Dryer Repair Man.  Mom let the Dryer Repair Man in through the garage, straight into the Utility Room, without allowing Pennie to smell him at all!  He installed a new electronic device into the dryer.  Pennie played no role in any of this.  The dryer dries again, but who knows what was actually installed?  No doubt a self-timed bomb, that will go off a some inconvenient point, since Pennie was not allowed her usual thorough inspection.

The second knock came from a neighbor up the street -- suspicious into itself for it was a Red-Head.  Mom is a mostly gray, but natural Red Head.  Who knows what this Young Red Head is like; Mom has proven that Red-Heads are formidable foes, even after going to gray.

Anyway, the Red-Head Neighbor had a Strange Dog with her.  She asked Mom if she recognized the Strange Dog, for it just showed up in her yard.  Mom did not recognize Strange Dog, and indeed due to long black hair, it was not even recognizable if Strange Dog was a Male or Female.  Red-Head Neighbor's Dog, Roscoe, is not overly friendly to other dogs (probably is stressed from his own life with a Red-Head,) so Red-Head Neighbor did not want to invite Strange Dog into her own house.

This is what Mom offered:  "If you can't find Strange Dog's home, drop him off here, and he can stay in the utility room and I'll take him to the vet to see if he has a micro-chip."

WHAT!!!!!

Neither Pennie nor I wish to have Strange Dog spending time in the Utility Room!  Isn't it bad enough to have a new Electronic Device installed in the Dryer without also having a Strange Dog?

So far Red-Head Neighbor has not returned with Strange Dog so hopefully he has found his home and now all Pennie and I have to worry about is the Dryer exploding.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Unpacking Groceries</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/758347</link>

				<pubdate>Thu, 5 Jan 2012 06:36:26 PST</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/758347</guid>
		<description>Mom went to the Target on Tuesday, and the regular grocery store on Wednesday -- seems that having t ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ Mom went to the Target on Tuesday, and the regular grocery store on Wednesday -- seems that having the Lads home from school over Christmas Break used up a lot of supplies!  The refrigerator sure looked clean, but the emptiness was haunting.

Pennie and I decided to help Mom, since she had so many items to put away.  As Mom was busy arranging cans in the cupboard, she heard a strange scuffle.

She turned around, and I had powder sugar all over my whiskers and snout.  Pennie did not have detectable powder sugar, as she has white at the end of her snout; alas my snout is white only on one side.

Pennie and I had found the box of mini powder sugar donuts!  Neither of us would confess who had the ingenious idea, but I will pass along that the cellophane window in the top of the powder sugar donut box is amazingly easy to shove a snout through to get to the donuts.

Just as Mom discovered the crime, I made a strange sound and threw up two small powder sugar donuts right at Mom's feet.  The donuts were still practically intact!  Obviously I must have been making a real pig of myself!  The donuts were still so intact that Mom could have just patted them dry a bit and put them back in the box and no one would have been wiser.

Mom banished me to the crate!  Pennie was NOT banished.  Pennie is fortunate to be blessed with a stronger stomach.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Nasal Collage Removal</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/755925</link>

				<pubdate>Fri, 23 Dec 2011 11:14:17 PST</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/755925</guid>
		<description>Dad removed the Nasal Snot Collage from the Van.  Pennie and I worked very hard at that piece.  Penn ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ Dad removed the Nasal Snot Collage from the Van.  Pennie and I worked very hard at that piece.  Pennie, in particular, deserves a Michelangelo Award -- he may have had to lay on his back to paint the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel, but Pennie imprinted her nose on the front windshield by being flung into the windshield when she saw a deer or squirrel while Mom was driving and turning a corner.

Alas, Mom was complicit in Dad's removal of the Nasal Snot Collage -- with the Low Winter Sun shining through the van, the rays reflect strangely off of our artwork, making it difficult to see out the window.  I think that is stupid -- it has been nothing but rain for days and days on end, so that is no reason to ruin our art, just for the few moments of sun that may peak through before Spring arrives.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Shelter Happy Beginning Posting</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/755731</link>

				<pubdate>Thu, 22 Dec 2011 12:43:21 PST</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/755731</guid>
		<description>My Mom sent in a picture and update to the Shelter where I spent my exile before Adoption.  Followin ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ My Mom sent in a picture and update to the Shelter where I spent my exile before Adoption.  Following is the link.


http://circletail.net/index.php?page=happy-beginnings

(Note: I have tried to fix the link: if there are any space between the letters in "beginnings", it has to be removed.  Santa must have the internet overloaded with last minuted Naughty/Nice pupdates.)]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Spewing Sophie</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/753005</link>

				<pubdate>Tue, 6 Dec 2011 11:32:31 PST</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/753005</guid>
		<description>My Mom has Zero Maternal Instincts.  Yes, Zero.

Mom was talking on the phone; in an unusual displ ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ My Mom has Zero Maternal Instincts.  Yes, Zero.

Mom was talking on the phone; in an unusual display of hope for a gift from Santa (it's too late to get on the Nice List, Mom;) she was listening politely to someone from the Bank asking her to sign up for another Credit Card.  Mom quickly announced:  "I have to go. My dog is throwing up."

Yes, there I was, spewing forth onto the kitchen floor.  I left a little Sophie Spew Trail on the way out the front door, but managed to miss the rugs.  Strange.  I almost always throw up on the rugs.

After a bit, Mom felt sorry for me out shivering in the cold rain, so she let me back inside and proceeded to eat her lunch.

Obvious to anyone with Maternal Instincts, I was under duress, and needed to sit on Mom's lap and be snuggled.  Mom was trying to eat her bowl of rice, and I kept hopping up into her lap, in need of comfort.  Mom kept pushing me away, and forcing me onto the floor!  She said she didn't want Sophie Spew Breath and Mouth near her lunch!

I simply don't understand that woman.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Subterranean Sophie</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/752707</link>

				<pubdate>Sun, 4 Dec 2011 14:16:06 PST</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/752707</guid>
		<description>In the middle of the night, I crawled up from my usual sleeping spot, and burrowed under the blanket ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ In the middle of the night, I crawled up from my usual sleeping spot, and burrowed under the blankets, down to the same exact spot, except UNDER the blankets.

Mom does not like Subterranean Sophie.  She doesn't mind so much when I find my spot, curl up in my Sophie ball, and go to sleep.  Mom just thinks it is creepy to see the blankets moving while I walk around under them.  It reminds her of movies where someone gets some horrid bug infestations (like the Scarab Beetles in "The Mummy,) and one can see them moving around under the skin.

I don't care what Mom thinks.  If I want to burrow, then I will burrow.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Conducting Interviews, then Mom got home</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/751510</link>

				<pubdate>Sun, 27 Nov 2011 12:22:01 PST</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/751510</guid>
		<description>Mom left. Abandoned me.  I thought she was gone for good.

On Tuesday night before Thanksgiving, M ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ Mom left. Abandoned me.  I thought she was gone for good.

On Tuesday night before Thanksgiving, Mom, Dad, and Middle Lad headed off for a High School Marching Band Trip.  Their destination was Philadelphia, to march in the Philadelphia Thanksgiving Day Parade.  Mom and Dad did not march.  They just yelled at teenagers, taped doors, counted teenagers, and got very little sleep.  The band then headed to Washington DC for an "educational" experience.

Oldest Lad and Pennie were left in charge of Little Lad and Wee Lass.

By Thursday I had given up on Mom and figured I might as well start interviewing new moms.  Pennie was distraught from over-work, but did not seem worried that Mom would not return.  I was taking no chances.  Sure Pennie can be Nannie Pennie, Tutor Pennie, Nurse Pennie, and any one of a million other jobs, but I, Queen Sophine, am of a more delicate nature.  By Thursday I was already tired of working my paws to the bone caring for the family.

Oldest Lad took Pennie, Me, Wee Lass, and Little Lad up to the park to play.  I immediately honed in on two Mom-ly looking woman who were also at the park.  I did my best charming and fawning, OR as Oldest Lad put it "whoring around."  I was pretty sure one of those two woman would take me in.

Oldest Lad texted Mom that I was interviewing new Moms already, and Mom was a bit perturbed, but too busy loading students on buses after they shot some sort of Disney Video to come home and show me she cared.

Finally today, Mom just appeared!  I ignored her completely for a long time.  I fully greeted Dad and Middle Lad.  Finally I decided to grant Mom a little Sophie time, and sat in her lap, pressing into her so hard that she was certain that a 33 pound dog could not produce that much density.  I shall have to let the Interviewees know that I am no longer "looking," but in the meantime, I shall make sure Mom knows that I am unhappy with her.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>One Year Anniversary of Gotcha Day</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/750464</link>

				<pubdate>Mon, 21 Nov 2011 08:21:03 PST</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/750464</guid>
		<description>Today marks one year since I joined my new family.  I have never revealed to any soul how I managed  ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ Today marks one year since I joined my new family.  I have never revealed to any soul how I managed to be exiled to the Shelter.  I am just thankful that unlike other famous Royalty who have been exiled, I did not suffer a tragic fate.  Napoleon Bonaparte was exiled to the Isle of Elba, and later exiled to the isle of Saint Helene, where he succumbed to either stomach cancer or poisoning.

Instead, I was rescued from my exile at the Shelter by Oldest Lad, as his first Foster Dog, and became Rental Dog Sophie.  Mom and Dad were so smitten by my charms that arrangements were made for me to permanently join the family.

Now for one year I have been able to assume the role befitting my personality, as Queen Sophine.  Despite Pennie constantly complaining that I never lift a paw around the house, I do help out.  I am always up with Mom to help manage the Lads and Wee Lass, and I am quite good at providing Compression Therapy.  Maybe I am "Management" as opposed to being "Working Class," such as Pennie, but some must be the organizers -- what company can run adequately without a CEO?

I eagerly await the showering of gifts and attention that my family will no doubt bestow upon me today, as they express their gratitude for me as part of the family.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>What About our SPOTS?</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/750310</link>

				<pubdate>Sun, 20 Nov 2011 10:53:59 PST</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/750310</guid>
		<description>Mom has had to move the Wee Lass Play Table into the Family Room.  The Play Table used to be in the  ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ Mom has had to move the Wee Lass Play Table into the Family Room.  The Play Table used to be in the Living Room, where there was room to spread out toys like trains and Duplos and not impede the general flow of traffic throughout the house.  Unfortunately, Wee Lass got herself Banished from the Living Room.  The house was getting extremely hot.  Dad and Mom were very worried that the thermostat was dying.  That is until Mom discovered one day, when she thought she was having a Hot Flash, that it was actually Wee Lass -- Wee Lass was taking the Duplo Bins over to the thermostat, stacking up the bins, standing on them, and then playing with the Thermostat.  It explained why it was 87 degrees and Mom was having a Heat Stroke as opposed to a Hot Flash.  In addition, the Thermostat is located right next to the Curio Cabinet that Dad inherited from his Grandma.  Wee Lass could easily have fallen off the Duplo bins and crashed into the glass doors, and then Dad would have had to take Wee Lass to the Emergency Room, after he finished beating Wee Lass with the broken Curios.

It was just best to move the Play Table.

Anyhoodles, the Play Table was impeding traffic flow in the Family Room/Dining Area/Kitchen aka Open Floor Plan.

Mom and Dad decided to MOVE FURNITURE.  What?  They can't just decide to move the Sophie Spot and the Pennie Spot without asking!  One moment our Spots are all arranged and the next moment who knows where we shall take our next nap!  Where is the best napping spot to keep an eye out the window?  I had my afternoon schedule all worked out and suddenly I have to find a new Throne.

To express our general displeasure, while Mom and Dad were moving furniture, Pennie and I decide to have a major Play Battle in the middle of the room.  We leapt over ottomans, couches, chairs, and enjoyed ourselves, while adding to the mayhem.  At least Mom did find a few stale Goldfish crackers in the couch cushions for me to munch on.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Busted!  Off Leash</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/749996</link>

				<pubdate>Fri, 18 Nov 2011 15:31:35 PST</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/749996</guid>
		<description>Oldest Lad, Housemate One, Housemate Two, and Daisy stopped by again today to take Pennie and Me for ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ Oldest Lad, Housemate One, Housemate Two, and Daisy stopped by again today to take Pennie and Me for an outing.  Instead of the Natural Preserve park, we went to another park.  We ran up and down the trails, and once again Oldest Lad forced me to go off-trail, into the woods.  I did find lots of things to munch on, however, probably Deer Poop, but I'll never tell -- let's just call it Trail Mix.

After walking through the woods, we went out into a big field to play ball.  That's when the Park Ranger caught us!  I barked and barked at him, trying to tell him that it was not MY idea to be off-leash, that I am a law-abiding dog, and did not want to off-trail or off-leash!  Regardless, Oldest Lad was given a Warning and told that next time he would get a ticket.

See?  It's best to play by the rules, whether it means to stay on the trail, or to stay On-Leash.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Proper Walking</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/749024</link>

				<pubdate>Sun, 13 Nov 2011 08:02:53 PST</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/749024</guid>
		<description>On Friday, Oldest Lad stopped by with Housemate Dog's Daisy, Housemate One and Housemate Two.  Penni ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ On Friday, Oldest Lad stopped by with Housemate Dog's Daisy, Housemate One and Housemate Two.  Pennie, Daisy and I were loaded up into Mom's van and headed off to the Nature Preserve for a hike.

I am all up for nature, and certainly for a hike, but I am a law-abiding Dog!  The Nature Preserve was very quiet, so Pennie, Daisy, and I were un-leashed.  Doesn't that violate the Leash Law?  Pennie and Daisy immediately started to run about willy nilly through the park, up the hills and down the hills, enjoying themselves and breathing in great quantities of fresh air.

Me?  There are PATHS at the Nature Preserve. Designated Paths.  A Proper Dog does not head off willy nilly off the path into the woods!  I have put my time in helping Middle Lad with Boy Scout Badges; I know about "Leave No Trace," and leaving nature the same way it was before a dog visited it.  I am quite certain that Pennie and Daisy knocked down multiple twigs, leaves, and stirred up other vegetation in their flurry of play.

I finally gave in to the beauty of being Off-Leash and out in the woods, and ventured off for a little exploring.  But when Oldest Lad found me, I was running only on the TRAIL, the PATH, like a proper Sophie.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Sophie Jean Valjean</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/746775</link>

				<pubdate>Mon, 31 Oct 2011 06:54:20 PDT</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/746775</guid>
		<description>I get up every school morning, with no grumbling, to do my Dog-ly duty of wakening Middle Lad, Littl ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ I get up every school morning, with no grumbling, to do my Dog-ly duty of wakening Middle Lad, Little Lad, and Wee Lass.  Pennie sometimes sleeps in!  Most times, Mom will force Pennie out of bed, and then Pennie will go downstairs and retire to the recliner chair and give off a loud groan.

Not me.  I enthusiastically get up, despite the dismal quality of the task at paw.  Middle Lad is in a veritable fog in the morning.  On occasion, he will be kind enough to pat my head.  Mostly, however, I just get shuttled on and off the couch, just when I have found a nice warm spot; as Mom realizes that NO, Middle Lad has NOT gotten up, and then she has to triple check that he did indeed take his AD/HD (without the H component) meds, and then nag that he DID print out and actually remove from the print tray that pesky homework assignment(s.)  It is quite tiresome.

Some mornings, Middle Lad makes himself some Soy Nut butter sandwiches to take to school.  He carefully removes the bread crusts, and then pain-staking smears soy nut butter on the bread.  He leaves the soy nut butter-laden knife upon the counter, leaving an enormous, tasty, glob of soy nut butter, just waiting for an anxious dog tongue.

Despite my faithful arising EVERY morning, despite me sitting faithfully at Middle Lad's feet while he makes his sandwiches, just so, do I get tossed a crust of bread?

No.  I sit, stomach grimacing and growling, in abject misery, Sophie Jean Valjean, just wishing for those perfectly edible crusts of bread that Middle Lad so rudely leaves just out of Sophie reach upon the kitchen counter.  Sometimes I jump up and put my delicate little paws upon the counter, stretching my Sophie Jean Valjean neck out as far as it can go, and just manage to lick a portion of the soy nut butter glob, but I inevitably end up just pushing the bread crusts further back along the counter.

When Mom finally gives me the bread crusts, she forces me to share them with Pennie.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Queen Sophine is NOT a slob</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/746181</link>

				<pubdate>Thu, 27 Oct 2011 10:08:04 PDT</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/746181</guid>
		<description>Pennie and I took Mom on a walk today, despite the drizzly rain.  The neighborhood behind us is extr ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ Pennie and I took Mom on a walk today, despite the drizzly rain.  The neighborhood behind us is extra muddy, because it is still under a lot of construction.  Something called "McMansions."  Pennie and I have been extremely disappointed to discover that these "McMansions" do NOT have drive thru windows.

Anyhoodles, Pennie and I obviously went on the same exact walk, same exact muddy sidewalk and road, and same exact wetness.

When we came home, Mom needed to get out the Baby Wipes to wipe us off.  By all accounts, I am a lower to the ground than Pennie, and should pick up more mess.  However, it took about three baby wipes to give me a thorough wiping.  Mom used about Twenty, yes 20! wipes to get Pennie wiped off.

I, Queen Sophine, have learned to walk royally.  Queens are capable of walking daintily even in the mud.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Lion Pick Up</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/745349</link>

				<pubdate>Sat, 22 Oct 2011 14:10:23 PDT</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/745349</guid>
		<description>Mom and the Wee Lass went to the Zoo today.  They stopped to view the White Lions.  The two male lio ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ Mom and the Wee Lass went to the Zoo today.  They stopped to view the White Lions.  The two male lions were sleeping, of course, because that is what lions do.  After a while, one of the fully maned lions woke up from his slumber, walked to another area of the exhibit, and proceeded to assume the full squat position.  He obviously doesn't get to do much counter-cruising (which always aids defecation) for he seemed to take a long time to get his business done.  Perhaps he did not have the proper reading material on paw.

Anhoodles, Mom got to pondering:  Since it seems that only MOMS, and by Moms, Mom doesn't mean Mom necessarily of a human, but Mom of a dog and/or human; anyway, since it seems that only MOMS are capable of cleaning up/picking up poop, what is done at the Zoo.  Do ALL of the female Zoo workers, regardless of their job -- ticket taker, parking attendant, food-service worker, or animal care-taker, have to go in and pick up poop?  If one assumes that 50% of the Zoo workers are females, that only leaves half capable of picking up poop.

There's a lot of animals at the Zoo, and Mom just thinks it a bit unfair, if the Zoo operates like our home does, and only the Moms/Females have to pick up poop.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Sophie Upset</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/745053</link>

				<pubdate>Thu, 20 Oct 2011 12:45:47 PDT</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/745053</guid>
		<description>I do fear that Mom is ready to head off to the brink of somewhere!  Still, I try not to spill all of ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ I do fear that Mom is ready to head off to the brink of somewhere!  Still, I try not to spill all of HER Secrets, so why should she spill mine?

Wednesday morning dawned extremely rainy.  Soon after Mom nagged Middle Lad off to school, she heard the tell-tale Sophie signs of imminent eruption.  Mom was too late -- I vomited upon the family room rug.

Mom sent Pennie and I out into the cold, leaving us to suffer the harsh elements while Mom showered.  When Mom finally let us in, there was THREE Dogs!  Mom tried to catch the third dog, so that she could read his tags (he did have on a collar) but he ran off and despite Mom's searching, she could not find him.  We have seen no further evidence of the third dog, other than the apparently delightful time that Pennie and I had while Mom was showering and we were playing in the rain with Third Dog.

Later in the day I once again made imminent eruption noises.  This time Mom managed to scoot me out the front door quick enough that I vomited upon the front porch.  Mom got a bucket of water from the kitchen to rinse off the porch, and noticed an odd something in the vomit.  Truly Mom has been a Mom for a long time, because she reached down her fingers and grabbed the something.  It appeared to be a bone.  Mom does not give us bones.  Mom saved the bone, for forensic evidence, while she pondered what to do.  In the meantime, I felt remarkably better.

Later on, Mom went outside and re-examined "the bone."  It was actually a piece of Antler that I must have broken off of my Antler gnaw.  It had swelled up to about twice it's size, while in my tummy, but now that it was "dry" it was back to looking like "antler" as opposed to "bone."

Perhaps I gave Mom a scare, but it's not like I forgot to tell her I had a Science Project due on Friday, or some such nonsense -- Mom should be relieved it was just vomit on the carpet and porch compared to the behavior of other family members.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Stifling Sophie</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/744729</link>

				<pubdate>Tue, 18 Oct 2011 09:48:15 PDT</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/744729</guid>
		<description>On Monday morning Pennie and I had to be up for an early morning ride to Public Elementary School to ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ On Monday morning Pennie and I had to be up for an early morning ride to Public Elementary School to drop off Little Lad for Beginner Band.  Prior to jumping in the van, Pennie and I stopped in the back yard to relieve ourselves, and there we found a suspicious snack.  Mom was not sure what it was, but she was NOT thrilled about it and made sure not to let Pennie or I lick her.

Then Mom realized that Wee Lass was ill.  At first Wee Lass seemed to just be "mopey" but soon proved to actually be "ill."  Later in the day when it was time for Little Lad and Middle Lad to go to their Saxophone Lessons, Mom did not want to take Wee Lass inside the building.  Conveniently Dad was out of town, so Mom spent an hour sitting in the parking lot, with Wee Lass, while the Lads had their lessons.

Pennie and I of course went along for the ride, since Mom was just sitting in the parking lot.  I decided that I MUST sit on Mom's lap the entire hour.  Mom was trying to read her Kindle, but approximately every two or three minutes I nuzzled under her arm, throwing the Kindle aside, forcing Mom to skritch my head.  Once home, I continued to sit upon Mom at every opportunity.  And not just sitting, but snuggling, rubbing, and generally thrusting my body against Mom.  Then Mom ended up sleeping on the couch while Wee Lass slept on the floor, and I slept ON Mom, all night.

Mom felt thoroughly Sophie Stifled.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Animal Magnetism</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/744510</link>

				<pubdate>Sun, 16 Oct 2011 13:21:10 PDT</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/744510</guid>
		<description>On Friday night Mom's Brother Four and Niece Six stopped by, just to use the basement as sleeping qu ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ On Friday night Mom's Brother Four and Niece Six stopped by, just to use the basement as sleeping quarters before heading to the University of Cincinnati Homecoming Game.

Due to some Genetic Anomaly, Brother Four does not like dogs.  Or pets of any kind.  It is certainly a genetic mutation, as all of the other family members like dogs, or pets.  Brother One must have outside pets due to the Family Genetic Predisposition to Allergies, but satisfies the Pet Gene by having rabbits and chickens.  Brother Two's wife prefers cats, but they do not "dislike" dogs.  Brother Three is disabled and not capable of caring for a pet, but is kind to animals and enjoys them at other's homes.  Sister Only is "between dogs," but her long commute sadly makes it unlikely she shall satisfy her dog-craving soon due to very long days.  Growing up, there were family dogs.  Really one cannot pick one's relatives and Brother Four drew a bad genetic mutation.

As soon as Brother Four sat down upon one end of the couch, Dad sat upon the other, and Pennie immediately jumped up and laid down in the middle.  She displayed her full length of Standard Brown American Dog for Brother Four so that he could fully bask in it's glory.  No one has yet been able to resist granting a belly rub to Pennie when she lays upon her back and thrusts forth her gleaming white belly.  Brother Four gave a few perfunctory rubs.

I jumped up and sat upon Brother Four's lap.  Brother Four clearly look uncomfortable, and I was encouraged to "get down."  It did not matter, for as soon as I have decided the location of my Queen Sophine throne for the next foreseeable time period, the victim's choice in the matter is futile.  I am not much of a "licker," but I find a scraggly face irresistible.  Brother Four, due to the late hour, was no longer clean shaven.  I could not help myself, I love to lick a scraggly face.  At random intervals, I kept reaching out my tongue to lick his beard stubble.

Poor Brother Four went to bed quite covered in dog hair, with a face covered in Sophie Breath and licks.  I am not certain that Pennie and I made any inroads into his dislike of pets, but we put forth our best effort.  Despite Sibling Rivalry, Mom insists that Brother Four does have SOME redeeming qualities!  He also did allow his family to have pets, although now that the Niece Four, Five, and Six are at University, he disallows pets.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>If they were going to talk about me . . . .</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/743330</link>

				<pubdate>Sun, 9 Oct 2011 18:53:20 PDT</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/743330</guid>
		<description>This evening Mom and Dad abandoned me at home while they took Oldest Lad out to dinner.  They had th ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ This evening Mom and Dad abandoned me at home while they took Oldest Lad out to dinner.  They had the opportunity to stop at Oldest Lad's apartment and visit with Housemate Dog Daisy (now Apartment Dog Daisy) and then walked to a restaurant.

The subject of Oldest Lad's former house, and my time of living at Oldest Lad's former house came up.

It is my understanding that gossip is a SIN.

Oldest Lad lives in: the City.  I now live in:  Suburbia.

With a much less population density of University Students, the Sidewalks of Suburbia, although well-used, are much cleaner.  There is simply not the veritable smorgasbord of perfectly still-edible trash along Suburbia Sidewalks as there was along the University Streets.

Oldest Lad shared that when I used to walk along the University Streets, I was so good at finding snacks, that Oldest Lad even called them "Sophie Sandwiches!"  Mom and Dad had never heard about that side of me!  Oh, sure Mom knows that if I find any tempting morsels on a walk, that I gulp them down, but she did not know of my former reputation of grabbing "Sophie Sandwiches" all along the trash-strew sidewalks of The City.

I thought I was being useful, helping to clean up the City, and yet all I get is gossiped about!  That is the last time I shall allow Mom to go out to dinner with Oldest Lad, without ME. Next time I shall surely feign a horrid illness, and Mom will need to remain home, where no secrets can be shared.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Circumstantial Hairy Cabinets</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/743092</link>

				<pubdate>Sat, 8 Oct 2011 07:55:30 PDT</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/743092</guid>
		<description>Mom has been slowly working on cleaning out the kitchen cabinets; taking out all the items, wiping t ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ Mom has been slowly working on cleaning out the kitchen cabinets; taking out all the items, wiping the cabinets inside and out, discarding unused and outdated items, and organizing.  Mom has been most disturbed at what she CLAIMS is the amount of Sophie Hair found just inside the lower inside edge of the bottom cabinets.

I do admit that I, Sophie, am a dog, and that I shed my dog hair on a daily basis.

However I put forth that the Cabinet Hair Evidence is purely CIRCUMSTANTIAL, and NOT evidence of MY guilt.

The hair Mom has found has indeed been dark brown.  I do tend to shed dark brown hair.

Pennie does not shed dark brown hair.

Mom is a red head gone some-what gray, so she sheds red and gray hair.

Little Lad is a light brown, almost red-head.

However, has Mom taken note of Dad or Middle Lad?  Dad is covered in a veritable pelt of dark brown hair.  I would like to claim that Dad was shedding hair from the top of his head, but sadly, there is just not enough hair there to shed and provide even the remotest piece of DNA evidence.

Middle Lad was born with back hair.  The top of his head is covered in a thick, dark brown carpet that doesn't even have the courtesy to get "long" -- it just gets bigger.

Due to the preponderance of HAIRY Humans in the family I am taken aback that Mom blames the hairy cabinets upon ME, Sophie.  Perhaps I may be a "contributor" but I am not confessing to the total crime of making Mom's cabinets hairy based on strictly circumstantial evidence that can easily be blamed upon others.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Double Sophie</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/742072</link>

				<pubdate>Sun, 2 Oct 2011 13:11:27 PDT</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/742072</guid>
		<description>Yesterday Dad took Wee Lass, Pennie, and Me to the Public School Playground to play.  Dad took us to ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ Yesterday Dad took Wee Lass, Pennie, and Me to the Public School Playground to play.  Dad took us to the hiking trail today!  Mom stayed home, for she has been sorely neglectful of us.  She has been mired down in a ridiculous volunteer project and was forced to stay at home while people stopped by the house to pick up their orders.  At least Mom did not leave the house, so she remained suitably oppressed.

Anyhoodles, at the Public School, Pennie and I were able to run all around off-leash.  Then we joined Wee Lass playing on the Play-Ground.

On the Play-Ground I discovered Double Sophie.

I barked, and the Public School barked back at me!  The Public School is a strange set-up of squashed together buildings due to maximal use of tax-payer moneys while educating double the number of students the building was designed to educate.  This has created a perfect Echo Chamber.

I barked and barked, and Double Sophie barked and barked right back at me.  Soon, the Wee Lass joined in and barked along, creating more Echo.

Pennie stood silent, looking at Me as if i was crazy.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Sophie Forgotten (Note, I accidentally wrote this on Pennie's diary first, due to my stiff, cold paws</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/741464</link>

				<pubdate>Thu, 29 Sep 2011 12:14:15 PDT</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/741464</guid>
		<description>Last night Mom had to go out for a meeting.  First off, this violates all rules of the house.  Mom i ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ Last night Mom had to go out for a meeting.  First off, this violates all rules of the house.  Mom is NOT allowed to go out, unless she is accompanied by one of the children, or one of the dogs.  We can not allow Mom to have any Social Life for fear that she will learn that there is something beyond the life of Oppression that we have for her.  Since this meeting was not a "fun" activity I suppose we had to make an exception.

I was left home at the mercy of Middle Lad, Little Lad, and The Wee Lass -- all of whom completely Forgot Sophie.

No one even noticed that I was abandoned outside, in the cold.

When Mom came home, after hours away, Pennie greeted her enthusiastically.  Mom broke up an argument between Little Lad and Wee Lass, but was secretly relieved that the argument had not led to an emergency room visit.

Mom could not find ME, Sophie.

A Sophie Search Commenced.

I was finally found, huddled outside in the dark, giving in to my fate to be eaten by a coyote, or to suffer poisoning because all I had to eat was acorns.

Mom held me close for the rest of the night.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Band Friend is OK</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/741326</link>

				<pubdate>Wed, 28 Sep 2011 19:17:01 PDT</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/741326</guid>
		<description>I have finally decided that Middle Lad's Band Friend is OK.  Ever since the beginning of August, Mom ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ I have finally decided that Middle Lad's Band Friend is OK.  Ever since the beginning of August, Mom and Band Friend's Mom have been sharing driving duties to transport Middle Lad and Band Friend.  They are both part of "The Pit."  "The Pit" is comprised of the instruments that are at the front of the Football Field during the Marching Band Show.  Middle Lad plays the Synthesizer. (And for any old-time Marching Band Geeks -- the new-fangled Marching Bands roll out sound carts with a generator so that Synthesizers and Electric Guitars are part of the show.)

Anyway, I have not once said hello to Band Friend in all the time of car-pooling.  When Band Friend gets into the van, I get in Mom's lap until Middle Lad arrives, or go straight to Middle Lad's lap if the boys get in the van at the same time.

Band Friend certainly SMELLS Good.  Not only does he have his own dog at home, but even with the onset of cooler weather, teenage boys who have been playing musical instruments are pretty stinky.    Probably not as stinky as football players, but the smell is quite pleasant to a dog nose.  Middle Lad always needs a through smell-over after Marching Band.

Pennie ALWAYS greets Band Friend.  I do trust her judgement -- I am certain that she checks Band Friend over thoroughly, but in a surreptitious manner, so he doesn't realize that ever time he rides in the van he has been checked that he is not a terrorist.

I finally decided that after almost two months of car-pooling, that I would say "hello" to Band Friend.  I jumped into the back seat, gave him a quick sniff over, and then went to sit on Middle Lad's Lap.  Perhaps I shall begin to greet Band Friend more often.  I shall have to see how I feel next car-pool time.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Stay Inside, Space Junk Is Falling!</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/740049</link>

				<pubdate>Wed, 21 Sep 2011 18:18:01 PDT</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/740049</guid>
		<description>On or about Friday, September 23rd, a defunct Satellite is expected to enter the Earth's atmosphere  ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ On or about Friday, September 23rd, a defunct Satellite is expected to enter the Earth's atmosphere and plummet to the ground.  The last I heard there is a 1 in 3200 chance of a piece of the broken Satellite hitting a human.  In the usual self-absorbed policy of Scientists and Newscasters, the estimate was only given for the chances of a piece of space junk hitting a HUMAN.  What about a dog?  Or even a Cat?  Or any other animal?  In fact, the Scientists are trying to assure Humans there is a good chance the falling Space Junk will simply land in one of the Oceans.  What about the fish or oceanic mammals?  Won't they be a bit perturbed by a huge hunk of space junk falling onto them while they swim up to the surface for a bit of noon-day warmer water?

Pawsonally, I do not plan to go outside at all anytime from Thursday until I hear that the Space Junk has fallen.  I don't want to be out in the yard barking at a passerby and get conked in the head by a big piece of non-orbiting Satellite.  I certainly don't want to be squatting to relieve myself and get knocked over!  What a terrible way to go -- knocked to death by Space Trash while relieving my normal body effluence.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Birthday NOT fit for a Queen</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/739015</link>

				<pubdate>Fri, 16 Sep 2011 16:49:40 PDT</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/739015</guid>
		<description>Today is my birthday!  I am five.  First off, I have decided that despite reaching age five, I shall ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ Today is my birthday!  I am five.  First off, I have decided that despite reaching age five, I shall NOT be going to Kindergarten.  I shall remain a Home-Schooled dog.  The Public School has eliminated snack time from it's Kindergarten curriculum due to food allergies, and that would have been the only reason to put up with all those jumpy, bouncy, germy students.  I do not wish my fur to become laden with viruses and bacteria from those little germ factories.

I expected to be lavished with presents today, as fitting Queen Sophine!  I have received extra attention, but NO presents!  Mom informed me that I am the only dog to arrive at the family with a Birth Date.  All the other dogs celebrate their birthdays as their Adoption Days!  I fervently pointed out to Mom that indeed I AM Queen Sophine and with the rare honor of having a Birth Date, I deserve TWO days of gifts:  my Birth Day AND my Adoption Day.

Mom said that she would celebrate me, snuggle with me, and treat my like a Queen, but no trip to pick out presents until my Adoption Anniversary at the end of November!]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Stupid Mom Questions</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/738025</link>

				<pubdate>Sun, 11 Sep 2011 12:45:21 PDT</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/738025</guid>
		<description>I am Queen Sophine.  I do find that my own Mother at times asks the most inane questions.  Last nigh ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ I am Queen Sophine.  I do find that my own Mother at times asks the most inane questions.  Last night, as I lay curled upon/between Mom's thighs, paying no heed to Mom's comfort, I had some bottom business with which to attend.  I proceed to lick my bottom.

This is what Mom asked:  "Sophie, MUST you lick your bottom while laying on my lap, on the couch?"

I do realize that the woman has a difficult task monitoring Middle Lad, who after only a few weeks, has already managed to fail two Al Gebra II quizzes, and Little Lad, who forgot a Music Project, and of course The Wee Lass; but she has Nannie Pennie to help her with those duties.  In the meantime, Mom needn't bother Me, Queen Sophine with Stupid Questions.

Yes, Mom, I DO need to lick my bottom, while comfortably nested upon your lap, and laying upon the couch.  I am Queen Sophine -- you don't seriously expect me to lick my bottom while I lay upon the cold floor?]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Snuggling and Gnawing</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/734650</link>

				<pubdate>Thu, 25 Aug 2011 07:41:42 PDT</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/734650</guid>
		<description>I have not earned the nickname &quot;Queen Sophine&quot; for lack of causation.

Once I settle into a &quot;spot&quot; ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ I have not earned the nickname "Queen Sophine" for lack of causation.

Once I settle into a "spot" I do not like to be moved.  It does not matter how uncomfortable or how inconvenienced the human may be, or perhaps if one of their limbs is hyper-extended, I am fixed to that spot for the duration of my nap or snuggle.  If I am moved, I simply roam about the room and return to that spot.

I have three favorite things:  snuggling, gnawing, and sun-spots.  What better than to combine two at a time?

One of my favs is to jump into my victim's, er human's lap, with a gnaw bone, and settle down for a nice snuggle, and a gnaw, while the human watches TV.  It is particularly nice to lay upon Oldest Lad or Mom while they are stretched out upon the couch.  I can lay upon the human belly, and then wedge my gnaw bone into the natural cleft between the torso and the upper arm.  It also works to wedge the gnaw bone between the human chin and upper shoulder.  Then I proceed to snuggle and gnaw.  I have been told in no uncertain terms that the noise of my gnawing that radiates up to the human ear is deafening.  I don't care.

This morning I discovered another perfect snuggle and gnaw position.  Mom was laying on the couch, administering her Morning Middle Lad Before School Nagging Routine: take your ADD and allergy meds, brush your teeth, put on deodorant, are you SURE you have your homework (Middle Lad still forgot his planner on his desk.)

I snuggled between Mom's thighs, with my upper body laying on Mom's lower body.  Then I found the perfect place to wedge my gnaw:  in Mom's belly fat.  I don't know why Mom was so offended; it's not like there was any noise radiating to her ear, it was all dissipating into her belly fat.  In fact, this could be a new way to eliminate belly fat!

Mom WAS quite offended, and despite me being forced down, circling the room and coming back to resume the same snuggle and gnaw spot, I found myself completely banished from this perfect spot.  I shall try again tomorrow; perhaps Mom was just upset that Middle Lad did not get up the first time she awakened him today.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Snubbed Volunteers</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/734266</link>

				<pubdate>Tue, 23 Aug 2011 11:19:54 PDT</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/734266</guid>
		<description>Just when a Dog thinks they know a human, that human turns on them.

It never occurred to me that  ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ Just when a Dog thinks they know a human, that human turns on them.

It never occurred to me that I, Queen Sophine, and Pennie, too, would be so blatantly snubbed by our own Mother.

Mom was in charge of arranging the Ice Cream Social for the Public School Marching Band.  Mom purchased ice cream, toppings, table covers, bowls, spoons, and all the implements necessary to carry out an Ice Cream Social.  Mom arranged with the Public High School Custodians to have the needed number of tables and trash cans placed in the area proclaimed by the Band Director as the Ice Cream Socialization Spot.

There was some concern about the Ice Cream Socialization Spot, as apparently, an Ice Cream Social produces a fair amount of Mess.  The Public High School, a busy venue, was to be used the next morning for a Community Event, and the Custodians were going to have to Power Wash the area Post-Social.

Mom went through Proper Channels, aka the Public High School Band Booster President, in order to recruit a multitude of Volunteers to scoop ice cream and dispense toppings.

Pennie and I eagerly volunteered our services:  Pennie as both crowd control AND clean-up and me as just clean-up.

We were completely SNUBBED.  Mom often comments that the Public School should be inclusive and recruit many volunteers, so it does not become cliquey.  Yet Mom had two very hard-working volunteers, anxious to be included, and we were banned.  Snubbed.

I still wonder how many plops of perfectly good melted ice cream were power washed out into the sewer that could have been cleaned up by my eager tongue.  Certainly it would have been a far better use of resources -- for dog's sake our Public School District is considering a levy in the near future -- for Pennie and I to be used to clean up the area, thus saving both water, and custodial time.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Rental Dog too adjusted to suburban life</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/733320</link>

				<pubdate>Thu, 18 Aug 2011 11:36:27 PDT</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/733320</guid>
		<description>Rental Dog Camille has become far too adjusted to life in Suburbia.  How do we explain on Petfinder  ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ Rental Dog Camille has become far too adjusted to life in Suburbia.  How do we explain on Petfinder that Rental Dog Camille has spent the last few months learning the bad habits of a Summer in Suburbia where the incumbent Mom has not the time nor energy to prevent counter cruising, begging for food, and couch-napping?  Rental Dog Camille shall go to her new home fully expecting to languish upon the furniture and sleep in bed until noon.  In her defense, she IS crate trained, and is a hard worker -- she is often the first to climb up on the kitchen table to clean plates.

This afternoon Camille benefited from Wee Lass not wanting to eat her lunch, but desiring to go straight to snack.  Unfortunately, Mom has a general idea of the length of time needed for one preschooler to eat a brown pea butter and jelly sandwich.  The proper length of time was not consumed, and the evidence of brown pea butter was evident all over Rental Dog Camille's whiskers.  When interrogated with firm evidence presented, Wee Lass had no recourse but to admit that she fed her brown pea butter and jelly sandwich to Rental Dog Camille's eagerly waiting lips.

Either Rental Dog Camille will go to a family who will find her "pleasantly broken in" or Rental Dog Camille will have to give up a few habits she has learned from her Summer in Suburbia.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Kennel Attention</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/732678</link>

				<pubdate>Mon, 15 Aug 2011 10:59:36 PDT</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/732678</guid>
		<description>This weekend Pennie and I were forced to languish at the kennel whilst the family attended a wedding ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ This weekend Pennie and I were forced to languish at the kennel whilst the family attended a wedding for Cousin Three.  As Pennie already wrote in her entry, our presence was sorely missed, as we would undoubtedly have removed all of the little white bags of tasty treats that were placed at each plate at the reception.  It was one (or more) of those bags that Middle Lad delved into, and in his sweet-tooth-ed greed failed to ascertain that not only was the bag non-labelled, but that the hard little nuggets mixed with the pretzels, etc, were peanuts.

Anyhoodles, Middle Lad returned home hopefully a wiser Lad, drugged full of anti-histamine, and itching from head to toe from the full body hives that had subsequently turned to eczema.

Meanwhile, I was garnering a full dose of Queen Sophine Attention at the Kennel.  Pennie was quite content to simply "go outside" to do her business.  Not me.  I shall not reveal the secret to my success, but being Queen Sophine does have advantages as I managed to act pathetic enough that I had to be walked about several times a day, by the Female Kennel Owner, as I refused to acknowledge the males kennel attendees, in order to relieve my bodily effluence.

Now that I am home I no longer receive the royal treatment that is due me, but I am glad to be home. I am in full agreement with Pennie, that she and I between us would have removed and consumed all of the tasty treats, little white bags and all, that led to Middle Lad's unfortunate reaction.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Abbreviated Time</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/731447</link>

				<pubdate>Tue, 9 Aug 2011 13:41:35 PDT</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/731447</guid>
		<description>Today was a blissfully cool respite from the heat.  In honor of this, Mom and Little Lad were enjoyi ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ Today was a blissfully cool respite from the heat.  In honor of this, Mom and Little Lad were enjoying some time out on the back porch, making bead projects. (Those little beads that get fitted on a tray, and then ironed together.)  Since it was cool(er) the sliding doors were left open so that Pennie, Rental Dog Camille, and I could come and go between the house and the porch.  The GATE between the family room and the rest of the house was CLOSED, limiting Rental Dog Camill's access, or reign of terror.

Oldest Lad returned home from work early.  He got to leave early because someone defecated in the pool.  Since he was the poor brave soul who ventured into the pool to fish out the offending substance, he was allowed to go home to take a shower.  Small reward, I suppose.

Oldest Lad discovered that Rental Dog Camille had made a brave attempt to don Mom's wrist watch.  Poor Rental Dog Camille.  No doubt she tried valiantly to strap the wrist band around her leg and latch it.  Unfortunately, Rental Dog Camille does not have opposable thumbs, nor does she have delicate lips -- I am certain Mulligan would have been able to attach a watch wrist band.

Instead, Rental Dog Camille, in her frustration must have just nibbled off more and more bits of the wristband.

This evening Oldest Lad shall be taken the watch and what remains of it's wristband out to locate a new wristband.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Rental Dog Naughties</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/731403</link>

				<pubdate>Tue, 9 Aug 2011 09:32:54 PDT</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/731403</guid>
		<description>Last night Mom went to bed with Pennie and I in our usual Dad-is-gone positions.  That means Pennie  ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ Last night Mom went to bed with Pennie and I in our usual Dad-is-gone positions.  That means Pennie sleeps in Dad's spot, and I sleep in my usual spot, resting my head upon Mom's head.  That is when Mom felt the:  Wet.

Mom knew that Rental Dog Camille was loose, running amok while Mom gave Wee Lass a bath.  Rental Dog Camille is "supposed" to be contained to the family room/downstairs area, but of course no one but Mom manages to be conscientious about keeping the gate shut.

Rental Dog used her unsupervised time to explore the whole house AND to pee on Mom's bed.

Mom retreated to sleep downstairs on the couch.  Today Mom is washing sheets.  Mom is quite certain that it was Rental Dog Camille as Pennie and I have denied any knowledge of the incident, and have provided comprehensive alibis of all of our body effluence for Monday.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>K9 KP</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/729808</link>

				<pubdate>Mon, 25 Jul 2011 19:21:10 PDT</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/729808</guid>
		<description>This afternoon Pennie and I were summoned to the kitchen for some K9 KP.  One casserole dish and one ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ This afternoon Pennie and I were summoned to the kitchen for some K9 KP.  One casserole dish and one pot needed cleaning.  Pennie was given the casserole dish.  I was given the pot.

What about Rental Dog Camille?  Just because she is a Foster Dog, does she get out of Kitchen Patrol?  Does she get to live a life a luxury while Pennie and I do all the hard work?  I was under the impression that Rental dogs were to live the same conditions as the Family Dogs, in preparation for their assignment to a furever home.  While I was Rental Dog Sophie I was expected to work!

Anyhoodles, then I discovered this:  While Pennie and I were boarded at Camp Kennel last week, Rental Dog Camille got all the leftovers to herself!  That was hardly fair!  The least Oldest Lad could have done was to drop off leftovers, pots, and dishes off at Camp Kennel, for Pennie and I to enjoy! 

Mom did not know if Oldest Lad was going to be home or not, so she made Camp Kennel reservations.  Pennie freaks out when the family is gone, even if someone is home, and Mom did not want Oldest Lad coming home from work to discover that Pennie had redecorated the house.  I was just an innocent bystander, as I do not have the Separation Anxiety that besets Pennie when Pennie sees suitcases.  I could have been home sharing leftovers with Rental Dog Camille.

"Sigh," apparently I am contradicting myself.  Perhaps tomorrow I'll shove Rental Dog Camille in her crate myself when K9 KP duty is called.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Sophie Scaring Mom</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/727756</link>

				<pubdate>Thu, 7 Jul 2011 16:52:12 PDT</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/727756</guid>
		<description>I scared Mom today.  The morning started out with me going to the Vet.  Mom discovered a lump along  ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ I scared Mom today.  The morning started out with me going to the Vet.  Mom discovered a lump along my right side that was non-painful, and firm.  Due to my recent incidents with Sibling Rivalry, Mom thought perhaps it was due to trauma, but she wanted to have me looked at.  The regular Vet was on vacation, but apparently the Substitute Vet has the same Fixation on Probing that the Regular Vet does.  This leaves me worried:  Mom's Brother Number Four, has Nieces Number Four, Five, and Six.  Niece Five is pursuing a degree in Large Animal Medicine.  She has already docked wee little piggy ears and lamby ears and neutered them as well!  What goes wrong in the upbringing of these people?  Niece Number Four and Niece Number Six, born into that same home, are not fixated on Probing Animals.  (If the family visits over the holidays, I plan to be kenneled, to be safe from Niece Number Five, although I am sure I would enjoy Number Four and Six.)

But I digress.  I knew I was in for a probing and I fixed my bottom firmly to the floor.  It was no used, for I was just picked up and put on a table and probed!

The Substitute Vet said that for the moment she thought my lump was due to my recent trauma; most likely from injections.  She told Mom to keep an eye on the lump.  Mom was quite relieved!

The really scary event happened later:  Mom came home from picking up Little Lad, and Middle Lad.  Mom is super fanatical about making sure no dogs or children are in a closed car in the summer.  There was a very sad case near here where a woman left her daughter in a car, by accident.  One of our neighbors was on the scene and attempted CPR, and was very traumatized.  The whole incident was upsetting to the whole community.  This drilled into Mom even more about dogs and kids and hot cars. When loading everyone up, Mom usually leaves one door open until she is actually ready to start the engine.

Mom went out to the van to get her glasses and who did she find in the van?  Me, Sophie.  Mom was most distressed.  She has no idea how I sneaked into the car.  Thank goodness Mom needed to go get her glasses, and I was not even hot, as the car was in the garage, and it had been only a few minutes since Mom had been home.  Still, Mom was all upset, because she always checks the van, and so someone must have opened the van up without Mom knowing, and I got into it.

I think Mom is going to need some relaxation tonight.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Rental Dog Camille Shopping</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/726897</link>

				<pubdate>Wed, 29 Jun 2011 11:30:44 PDT</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/726897</guid>
		<description>I suppose it appears that all I do is complain about Rental Dog Camille; totally forgetting that I,  ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ I suppose it appears that all I do is complain about Rental Dog Camille; totally forgetting that I, too, was once a Rental Dog.  Actually, I was Exiled to the Shelter, as Queen Sophine.  I was lucky that I did not face the same fate as Tsar Nicholas II of Russia and his family, who upon their exile, were shot.  Instead, unaware of what Royal Crime I had committed, I was exiled to a no-kill shelter.

But I have digressed.

Today I found myself with great sympathy for Rental Dog Camille.

Rental Dog Camille does not know how to SHOP.  Mom usually hides the credit cards form Me and Pennie.

Unfortunately, Mom had a credit card sitting out, for she had been trying to make hotel reservations.  Rental Dog Camille decided to try HER paw at on-line shopping.  I am certain she was after something for herself as she shows no remorse for constantly stealing MY BONE or for chewing up the following items that belong to The Wee Lass:  Blueberry Shortcake Doll (smells like blueberries,) Polly Pocket Doll, Dollhouse Mom Doll and Thomas train track.

Instead of surfing the net and entering the credit card numbers when requested; Rental Dog Camille chewed Mom's card.  Poor Rental Dog knows nothing about how to SHOP!

Fortunately I shall still be able to shop as I can make out the numbers on the card (and that all important code number,) but Mom has had to order a new card. Rental Dog Camille, in her Puppy Enthusiasm to make her first on-line purchase, chewed right through the magnetic strip, disabling the card for any scanning purposes.

I shall now have to decide:  Do I feel enough sympathy towards Rental Dog Camille to teach her to SHOP?]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Ohhh!  So gross.</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/726371</link>

				<pubdate>Fri, 24 Jun 2011 09:40:21 PDT</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/726371</guid>
		<description>I am still woefully Sophathetic with the hole on my head.  Mom has been religiously giving me my ant ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ I am still woefully Sophathetic with the hole on my head.  Mom has been religiously giving me my antibiotic and anti-inflammatory/pain killer.  She has been putting drops in my eyes.

Today I had a bit of dried flesh hanging off the wound.  Mom just had to get it off, for she was certain that she would vomit if she had to continue looking at it.  It was just the barest bit of flesh, hanging by a bit of hair.

Mom finally got Oldest Lad to hold me still, and out came the dreaded scissors.  I feared for my eye, certain that Mom would miss, and gouge out my eye ball.

Mom managed to maintain a steady hand, and with a minor snip, the dried bit of flesh was gone.  I thought she should store it for forensic analysis, to determine whether it was Pennie or Rental Dog Camille who was the Perp of the hole on my head.  Mom wanted to maintain a cover-up for the guilty dog, and threw the evidence in the trash.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Attack in Suburbia!</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/725924</link>

				<pubdate>Mon, 20 Jun 2011 08:34:39 PDT</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/725924</guid>
		<description>I am wounded.  My insensitive family has not idea how I became wounded.  I refuse to share the detai ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ I am wounded.  My insensitive family has not idea how I became wounded.  I refuse to share the details of the crime, but instead insist on acting as Pathetic as possible, thus my name, Sophathetic, while allowing the guilty party to roam free.

Here are the facts:  I have a hole in my head and an irritated eye.  Sometime on Sunday, either Pennie or Rental Dog Camille and Me, Queen Sophine, obviously had an argument.  In the evening, Oldest Lad discovered that I had a hole on my head and a droopy eye.  I was also acting QUINTESSENTIALLY Sophathetic.  I shuddered and quivered all night long.

Mom slept hardly at all, for fear that I would pass during the night.  She called the Vet as soon as the office opened.  I was whisked to the Vet's Office for thorough probing and violation.

The Vet shaved the top of my Brindle Head, and discovered a definite tooth mark upon my skull.  My eye was injured, but not punctured.  I was given a shot, antibiotics, an anti-inflammatory, and eye drops.  I was then dispatched home.

I did get back at Mom by releasing the odor of my anal glands.  I believe Mom may have to get a new mini-Van.

It is unclear who is responsible for my terrible injuries, but I shall continue to act Sophathetic to insure that neither Rental Dog Camille nor Pennie gets any attention at all.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Snack Cabinet</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/725608</link>

				<pubdate>Fri, 17 Jun 2011 09:40:19 PDT</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/725608</guid>
		<description>The best spot in the house is the Snack Cabinet.  It is a tall cupboard in the kitchen, located righ ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ The best spot in the house is the Snack Cabinet.  It is a tall cupboard in the kitchen, located right at the start of the kitchen.  I can not officially call it the "entrance" to the kitchen for alas, the house has an open floor plan, so it is difficult to ascertain where the kitchen actually begins.

Regardless, most denizens and many visitors to the house go straight to the Snack Cabinet upon entry to the house.

Other Woman heads straight to the Snack Cabinet or the refrigerator, and peers in.  Since she was a "friend" long before she became Other Woman, she has been engaging in this behavior for years.  I have no objection, as when I visit Other Woman's house, I follow Other Woman's Mother around, look cute, and she feeds me morsels and tidbits for my entire visit.

Pennie and I of course, view the Snack Cabinet as the Optimal Hang Out.  We are anxious to Browse anytime it is opened.

Now Rental Dog Camille has learned about the Snack Cabinet!  The door was open as one of the Lad's perused it's contents, and there was Rental Dog Camille's Big Puppy Head sniffing and browsing!

Rental Dog Camille has not EARNED the right to access the Snack Cabinet.  Plus, as I am shorter than Pennie, therefore, Pennie and I can both browse the snack cabinet at the same time, while the door is open.  Rental Dog Camille crowds ME OUT.

I am certainly more than kind to Rental Dog Camille, considering that she continually gnaws upon MY BONE.  But she must learn MANNERS!

I thought perhaps she would be gone this coming weekend, but apparently the family that was interested in her has discovered that one of the children is dog-allergic.  It appears that Rental Dog Camille shall be chewing MY BONE and Browsing MY Snack Cabinet, for the foreseeable future.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>WHAT?</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/725503</link>

				<pubdate>Thu, 16 Jun 2011 08:39:48 PDT</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/725503</guid>
		<description>I am not sure what is going on upstairs.  

Mom slept late this morning.  First off, Mom, Little L ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ I am not sure what is going on upstairs.  

Mom slept late this morning.  First off, Mom, Little Lad, and Middle Lad were up way too late watching Harry Potter Movie Number 6.  Then Mom had trouble sleeping, with a tummy ache, so when she finally got to sleep, she slept late.  It was quite annoying, as Mom would not lay still, which caused MY sleep to be disturbed.  

When we all finally got up, Oldest Lad had left for work and Rental Dog Camille had been out, fed, and put back in her crate.

Now we hear all sorts of strange sounds through the ceiling, from the room above us, where the Camille Crate is.

When I am in the crate, I lay quiet and regal, using it as a time for calm reflection and to center my soul.  Apparently Rental Dog Camille does not understand about centering herself through quiet reflection.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>MY Bone</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/725400</link>

				<pubdate>Wed, 15 Jun 2011 07:01:14 PDT</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/725400</guid>
		<description>Oldest Lad has brought his Rental Dog Camille home to live with us, while she awaits adoption.  She  ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ Oldest Lad has brought his Rental Dog Camille home to live with us, while she awaits adoption.  She does have an appointment on Saturday to be viewed, so I am keeping my paws crossed in the hopes that she finds a furever home.

In the meantime, Camille and I have been having a bit of a disagreement over MY BONE.  I like to gnaw on MY BONE, particularly in the evening, while the family watches TV.  Camille has decided that she wants to gnaw on MY BONE.

Camille has even gone so far as to attempt to gnaw on MY BONE at the same time that I, Queen Sophine, gnaw on MY BONE.  MY BONE is only about 5 inches long.  It is NOT long enough for TWO dogs to gnaw on it at the same time.  I have had to resort to just hiding it under my body, and forgoing the pleasure of my nightly gnaw, just to keep Camille from "sharing" my gnaw.

I am quite content to let Pennie be the "Alpha" female in the family. I don't view it so much as Pennie being the Alpha, but Pennie and I playing different, but much needed, roles in the pack.  I am quite content when other dogs come over to play to sit on the sidelines (and in the case of that over-grown Sasquatch of a dog, Calbert, keep my bottom firmly planted to the ground to avoid his domination.)

However, it has become clear that Camille will not Alpha-herself over me.  Sure, Camille and I get along, and I don't mind having Camille here, but she is not going to exert herself into a position above me.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Three's a Crowd!!</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/724990</link>

				<pubdate>Sat, 11 Jun 2011 06:13:24 PDT</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/724990</guid>
		<description>Oldest Lad arrived home yesterday, with Rental Dog Camille alongside him.  The &quot;first&quot; plan was that ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ Oldest Lad arrived home yesterday, with Rental Dog Camille alongside him.  The "first" plan was that Rental Dog Camille was to go back to the Shelter at the end of the University Term, as Oldest Lad logically realized that having the Lads home for the summer, plus The Wee Lass, plus Pennie, and Me, Queen Sophine, was enough.

Unfortunately, Oldest Lad has changed his mind.  Rental Dog Camille is cute enough, I suppose, if one goes for the long legged, mischievous type.  She has had several people ask about adopting her, but no formal interest as of yet.

Mom is too soft-hearted to force Rental Dog Camille to return to the shelter.

In the meantime:  Rental Dog Camille has taken over Mom's Chair.  Yes!  Rental Dog Camille has realized that the chair perfectly cups the body, while providing a view of the family room antics, and one can loll one's head over the side for a good nap, or tuck the head in to a good Sophie -Ball.  Or in Camille's Case, a Rental Ball.

Rental Dog Camille has discovered the Key Sofa Spot, where a dog can lay in comfort, yet view out the front window to watch Suburbia go by.

Rental Dog Camille is not bound by the e-fence, so she runs into the neighbor yards!  She even found tasty garbage-snacks laying around the neighbor trash-cans that the raccoons had left after they dumped the trashcans out all over the yard.

I do realize that I must be accommodating, as I was once Rental Dog Sophie, but isn't it enough that the I have Little Lad and Middle Lad home for the summer, without having Rental Dog Camille here?]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Privacy, Please!</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/724792</link>

				<pubdate>Thu, 9 Jun 2011 08:54:29 PDT</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/724792</guid>
		<description>Pennie and I usually accompany Mom to the Indoor Backyard.  One of us almost always supervises her i ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ Pennie and I usually accompany Mom to the Indoor Backyard.  One of us almost always supervises her in there, or the very least, waits in the adjoining room.  Mom usually uses the Indoor Backyard that is upstairs.

I am quite certain there is no escape from the Indoor Backyard, but I must make sure that Mom is never left unattended for fear that she will attempt to escape her life of Repression.

Anyway, Little Lad and Middle Lad are now home for Summer Vacation.  The Wee Las was only going to Preschool two days a week, which hardly counted, but she has been done for several weeks anyway.

It is MY job (or Pennie's job) to be Mom Monitor.  Instead, while Mom is using the Indoor Backyard, there is a constant stream of interruptions:  inevitably Little Lad will start yelling:  "Mom, Mom, MOOOOOM!"  He will relentlessly hunt Mom down until he discovers the closed bathroom door, and then insist on having a conversation with Mom.  Yesterday, Middle Lad, despite Mom requesting for him to "take a message," insisted on giving Mom the phone while she was in the bathroom. (The Wee Lass, meanwhile, is smart enough to use this unsupervised time to get into trouble with something she is not supposed to be doing.)

I must insist on an end to this disruption of Mom and Sophie time.  It is MY job to be Mom Monitor.  It is MY time to spend with Mom, and I do not care for these ceaseless interruptions.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Brindle on the Tracks!</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/724640</link>

				<pubdate>Tue, 7 Jun 2011 17:03:45 PDT</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/724640</guid>
		<description>Mom put away the Thomas/Brio wooden trains that had been spread out all over the living room, and va ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ Mom put away the Thomas/Brio wooden trains that had been spread out all over the living room, and vacuumed.
Then she got out the Duplos.  The Wee Lass, Little Lad, and Little Lad Pal settled down to play with the accumulated mass of three Lads plus a Wee Lass collecting Duplo sets over many years.

Surprisingly, there were also train tracks with the Duplos.

Oh, NO!  There was a Brindle on the Tracks!  I was asked to move.  I refused.  Mom picked me up and moved me, but true to my nature as Queen Sophine, I had found a comfortable spot, train tracks or no tracks, and I went right back to laying on the tracks.

The TransContinental Railroad was built despite avalanches, mountains, weather, and language barriers; I think that The Wee Lass is just going to have to put up with a Brindle on the Tracks now and again, unless she finds a stray stick of dynamite to move me.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Street Ownership</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/724456</link>

				<pubdate>Mon, 6 Jun 2011 09:01:20 PDT</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/724456</guid>
		<description>This morning, as Pennie and I walked Mom, we simply avoided a certain cul de sac.  The first house o ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ This morning, as Pennie and I walked Mom, we simply avoided a certain cul de sac.  The first house on this cul de sac is guarded by two small white dogs who have an electronic fence that gives them the run of the whole yard.  Their house is actually not the first house on the street, but the first house, across the street, has no dog(s), so all are free to pass.

My first question is:  what will these two dogs do when the vacant lot next to them, which will be the TRUE First House, is sold, and is built upon, and these dogs no longer "own" the street?

Question two:  what will these two dogs do if the house across the street, which is "for sale" is sold to a family with a dog or dogs?

We just don't usually bother to go up this cul de sac, for it is not worth the ruckus these two dogs make, and quite frankly, Pennie and I "own" our portion of our street, so I suppose even I must cede ownership of this street to these other dogs.

Our house is not a Corner Lot, but IS a Stop Sign.  There is simply no doubt that it is Pennie and Sophie Territory.  The house next door will probably never have a dog, as their owner is not fond of dogs.  (Shameful.)

I suppose these two little dogs will be in for a rude awakening sometime soon, so in the meantime, I will let them simply "own" their street, for there are far more interesting places to walk, such as where the geese hang out, than that silly cul de sac, anyway.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Some humans never pleased.</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/724128</link>

				<pubdate>Fri, 3 Jun 2011 06:49:40 PDT</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/724128</guid>
		<description>This past school year has been most challenging for Middle Lad, and one of the chief contributors ha ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ This past school year has been most challenging for Middle Lad, and one of the chief contributors has been Geometry.  I did not arrive on the scene until November, but I do hope that I was able to add valuable contribution to this heroic endeavor.  We even had to hire a human tutor!

This morning is the fateful final exam in Geometry.  Middle Lad has been working tortuously all week on exam studying, and torturing all of us as well.

Last night, as part of Pennie's Educational Plan, Pennie and I used the TET method (Transcendental Educational Tutoring) ALL NIGHT LONG.  It would appear that we were merely slumbering, but we were TETing. 

(Incidentally, Middle Lad sleeps in a loft, so no dog can sleep with him.  Also, he has strong environmental allergies, so Mom discourages dog-sleeping, not due to "us" but because we may have pollens upon our fur.)

And Pennie and I were using TET in:  a Geometric Fashion.

I thought it was utterly brilliant on the part of Pennie and I.

We slept in Parallel Lines.  

Sophie Straight Line.
Mom Straight Line.
Pennie Straight Line.
Dad Straight Line.

All we got for our efforts was whining from Dad because Pennie crossed over onto Dad's side of the bed.  For Dog's sake the rest of the family has been working hard for Middle Lad's Grades, could Dad not have a Dog on his side of the bed for one night?]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Secret Snoring</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/723754</link>

				<pubdate>Tue, 31 May 2011 07:36:56 PDT</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/723754</guid>
		<description>I, Queen Sophine, snore.  Not only do I snore, but I mutter.  There have been several nights that Da ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ I, Queen Sophine, snore.  Not only do I snore, but I mutter.  There have been several nights that Dad has accused Mom of snoring.  Mom, who admits to snoring on occasion, has been most bewildered because at the time she was not even asleep.  Then one evening while I lay in Mom's lap, crooning softly, Mom asked Dad:  "Is this what you hear?" Dad realized that he was wrongfully accusing Mom, and it was Me, Queen Sophine, who was delicately crooning to him a lullaby of slumber.

The family "thought" that Pennie had all dogs beat by her voracious snoring.  With Pennie's long snout, great roars thunder throughout the house.

Then the family met me.  However, my snoring is a blessing that I bestow upon all to hear.  The family should be thankful to be graced by hearing the lullaby of my breathing.

My only worry?  What Royal Secrets might I accidentally reveal while I mutter in my sleep?  Is my family trustworthy to keep quiet about my royal thoughts?  Or perhaps my mutterings are too complex for them to understand, anyway, and my secrets are safe, though muttered.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>End of the World Yard Sale?</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/722693</link>

				<pubdate>Sat, 21 May 2011 08:14:10 PDT</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/722693</guid>
		<description>Dad let Pennie and Me outside this morning, in the front yard.  We immediately raised the Neighborho ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ Dad let Pennie and Me outside this morning, in the front yard.  We immediately raised the Neighborhood Watch Alarm.  Two houses down the street the neighbors were having a Yard Sale.  There has not been much in the way of Yard Sales this Spring, as the endless rain has made such activities uninspiring.

I suppose that this family decided that if Armageddon is today, then they would no longer be needing their yard, or their earthly possessions, so they were busy selling them to Atheists and assorted Non-Believers.

It was quite entertaining to bark, bark, bark at only 7:45 am at these throngs of Atheists and Non-Believer Bargain Hunters.  Mom would normally immediately march Pennie and Me back inside the house, but she finds it annoying that such bargain hunters park on both sides of the street, blocking free access to Suburbia, so she let Pennie and I Raise the Alarm.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Eating Octopus O's</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/721552</link>

				<pubdate>Tue, 10 May 2011 08:08:33 PDT</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/721552</guid>
		<description>The letter of the week at Wee Lass' preschool was &quot;O.&quot;  Or it could be the Zero Hero.  It was diffic ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ The letter of the week at Wee Lass' preschool was "O."  Or it could be the Zero Hero.  It was difficult to tell.  All that I could determine was that the Wee Lass used an overabundant amount of glue in glueing the "O" or Zero Hero cereal down on the construction paper octopus arms.  Regardless of the glueing power, I was still able to nibble off the "O's" or Zero Heroes.

Just because I am Queen Sophine, and have spent many days at University with Oldest Lad does not mean that I am above giving myself the mental stimulation of alphabet and/or numeric input combined with sugary sweet temptation to improve my intellectual prowess.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Diary of the Day</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/721157</link>

				<pubdate>Fri, 6 May 2011 07:02:54 PDT</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/721157</guid>
		<description>As befitting Royalty, I, Queen Sophine, am Diary of the Day, today!

Thankfully I was rescued from ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ As befitting Royalty, I, Queen Sophine, am Diary of the Day, today!

Thankfully I was rescued from my Exile at the Dog Shelter some months ago, to be attended to by my adoring Minions, I mean family, that I rule over in a loving and gracious way.

I do fear that I shall not garner the utter adoration that I deserve from my family today.  There is a dog visitor, Daisy.  Daisy belongs to a housemate of Oldest Lad.  Oldest Lad and his friends have gone off to Louisville to huddle with the masses in the Infield of the Kentucky Derby.  We shall NOT be watching the Kentucky Derby for fear of viewing any candid shots of Oldest Lads and his friends and what ill-mannered antics they may succumb to while amongst the Infield Crowd. (Or perhaps it should be the Infidel Crowd.)

Daisy is NOT happy to be our house=guest.  She has been here many times before, but always with Oldest Lad in attendance.  She is very much smitten with her Own Man, but will accept the attentions of Oldest Lad when her Own Man is not around.  Unfortunately, neither Oldest Lad or Daisy's Own Man are here, but gone off to engage in bad behavior.

Daisy has been pacing and whining, and clearly stating that she is not happy.  Perhaps she too, is worried about seeing crowd shots of the Kentucky Derby, and viewing Oldest Lad, Daisy's Own Man, and their friends engaged in licentious behavior.

In the meantime, Mom is trying her best to make Daisy feel better, and attend to HER needs, not ME, Queen Sophine, despite my royal status AND now the royal honor of Diary of the Day.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Showed HIM whom Queen Sophine IS!</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/720668</link>

				<pubdate>Sun, 1 May 2011 19:21:39 PDT</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/720668</guid>
		<description>Tonight that overgrown Mutt, Calbert, stopped by.  He is a mix of Golden Retriever and Chow, and now ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ Tonight that overgrown Mutt, Calbert, stopped by.  He is a mix of Golden Retriever and Chow, and now weighs around 100 pounds.

He has NO manners.

As soon as he knocked on the door, Pennie ran outside and began racing around the yard with him.  I stepped outside to say "Hi!" and Calbert immediately attempted to Hump Me.  I huddled my bottom firmly to the concrete of the porch until Mom felt sorry for me and let me in the house.  There I sat, peering out from the glass door, looking royally on at the show of Pennie and Calbert playing.  Then Middle Lad insisted that I go back outside.

That's when I decided I had enough of Calbert's antics.  I put my snout right in his face, curled back my lips, and barked!  Calbert looked at me, stunned.  Then he ran off.

I, Queen Sophine, am going to be Big and Brave, and I am NOT going to let some overgrown Sasquatch hump me on my own front porch!]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>I don't care, I am Queen Sophine!</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/720187</link>

				<pubdate>Wed, 27 Apr 2011 09:02:17 PDT</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/720187</guid>
		<description>First off, with the Royal Wedding coming up, I expect to be treated like the Royalty that I am this  ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ First off, with the Royal Wedding coming up, I expect to be treated like the Royalty that I am this week!  Maybe I just ACT like a Queen, but this is Royals Week, and I expect Royal Treatment.

Thunderstorms continue.  and continue.  ad nauseum.

The Weather Radio goes off so frequently that it is almost as if NOAA Woman Static Voice and NOAA Man Static Voice have become members of the family, interjecting their Weather Opinions into our daily conversations even if the topic isn't even about weather.  And why do their voices always have to be full of Static?  NOAA Woman and NOAA Man are so demanding -- the radio blares that stupid weather warning sound, and they get to interrupt, without even having to say "excuse me."

Mom actually wanted some SPACE last night.  Mom has a cold, and would one believe she did not want Pennie and I laying all over her?

Absolutely ridiculous.

First off, we had to administer Compression Therapy, with both Compression and Healing Vapors.

Second, does either Pennie or I really care about Mom's need for Personal Space?  No.  Mom finally gave up and succumbed to the weather-related neediness of Pennie and Me.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Easter Rebellion</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/720100</link>

				<pubdate>Tue, 26 Apr 2011 13:50:53 PDT</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/720100</guid>
		<description>I say Pennie started it.

Wee Lass, Little Lad and Middle Lad all hunted for plastic Easter Eggs f ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ I say Pennie started it.

Wee Lass, Little Lad and Middle Lad all hunted for plastic Easter Eggs filled with candy, and put them in baskets.  As we live in the MidWest, and NOT in Politically Correct Seattle, Washington, they were indeed Easter Eggs and NOT "Spring Spheres."

Wee Lass actually had TWO Easter Baskets!  Other Woman gave her an Easter Basket as well.

Wee Lass left her Other Woman Easter Basket on the bench in the foyer.  Technically, it was an Easter BUCKET, filled with candy, chalk, and crayons.

On Monday Morning, after our Ritual Preschool Drop-off, Mom realized that Pennie was sitting in the foyer, growling.  Mom took all the candy out of the Easter Bucket and put it in a bag in the pantry.

Later in the afternoon, while Mom was monitoring homework, she heard growling again in the foyer.

Then full scale war broke out between Pennie and ME!  Rolling on the floor.  Biting at each other.  Baring of the teeth.  Mom screamed!  We stopped.

No one was injured, except for hurt feelings.  Despite the Easter Bucket now only holding chalk and crayons, the candy smell still lingered and was enough to spark a fight.

Pennie and I avoided each other for the rest of the night.  Pennie is running on little sleep.  Thunderstorms kept her awake most of Friday night.  All day Saturday she was Scoutmaster Pennie, supervising work on the Boy Scout Trailer.  More thunderstorms kept us awake Saturday night.  Sunday, Pennie again spent hours supervising Dad's work on the Troop Trailer.

With the constant rain, thunderstorms, and then the Easter Basket, it was the perfect brew for an Easter Rebellion.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>No, you go first!</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/719719</link>

				<pubdate>Sat, 23 Apr 2011 12:58:03 PDT</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/719719</guid>
		<description>For all her claims to being Scoutmaster Pennie, Pennie did NOT get invited to go get pizza with the  ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ For all her claims to being Scoutmaster Pennie, Pennie did NOT get invited to go get pizza with the Scouts when they took their lunch break from working on the Troop Trailer.  No, Scoutmaster Pennie was forced to stay home with me, Queen Sophine, and the Wee Lass.  And, for all her claims of bravery with power tools, Pennie was no braver than me when it started to thunder.

It soon came to be time to go pick Little Lad up from Taekwondo.  Mom was forced to park the mini-van in front of the house, due to the Troop Trailer being in the driveway.  Just as Pennie, Me, and the Wee Lass went out into the garage to walk out to the mini-van:  Boom!  Crack!  Thunder claps!

Pennie, the Wee Lass and I all planted ourselves firmly in the garage.  Little Lad?  Little Lad who?

Mom said:  "We HAVE to go get Little Lad.  Now out!"  

She grabbed Me, Queen Sophine under her arm, and pushed Pennie and the Wee Lass out of the garage.  CLAP!  More thunder.  Pennie and the Wee Lass ran back in the garage.  I jumped from Mom's arms and ran back in the garage.  Mom attempted to shove Pennie and Me back in the house:  no, we were not abandoning Mom to the thunder.  We refused to be shoved.

Mom grabbed me once again under her arms, and firmly dragged the Wee Lass, who was crying and screaming, and rushed us to the mini-van.  Pennie stayed in the garage.  Mom drove the mini-van back into the driveway, opened the door to the mini-van and Pennie made a flying leap in.

Despite all that, we managed to be right on time to pull up in front of Taekwondo, open the door, and let Little Lad take HIS turn at taking a flying leap into the mini-van.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Minimal Work Ethic</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/719144</link>

				<pubdate>Mon, 18 Apr 2011 12:27:29 PDT</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/719144</guid>
		<description>Oh.
I did not realize that living in Suburbia required a Minimal Work Ethic.

Since discovering t ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ Oh.
I did not realize that living in Suburbia required a Minimal Work Ethic.

Since discovering the Bay Window and it's glorious Sun, that's where I have been spending all my time.

I have a view of most of the back yard.  I firmly maintain that I, Queen Sophine, am overseeing My Dominion.

Mom claims I am Slacker Dog.

Today when Mom came home from the grocery store, Pennie greeted her profusely, tail a-wagging, hugs all around.

I did manage to lift my head when Mom discovered me laying in the bay window and stare at her, groggily.

Mom was not pleased.  Apparently there is some Minimal Work Ethic around here, and that involves greeting Mom profusely.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Shelter Honor</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/719025</link>

				<pubdate>Sun, 17 Apr 2011 10:18:19 PDT</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/719025</guid>
		<description>My very own Shelter is featured on Dogster!  Circle Tail, Inc, trains dogs to be Service Dogs.  It h ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ My very own Shelter is featured on Dogster!  Circle Tail, Inc, trains dogs to be Service Dogs.  It has an extensive Prison Dog training program.

I pawsonally was never part of the Service Training Program, as I was "Owner Surrender" at the ripe old age of FOUR.  I suppose FOUR is consider geriatric for Service Dog Training.  Regardless, it doesn't matter as I became Rent to Own Sophie, which was even better!  My very own Bay Window with Sun Spot beats where I could have ended up if my former owner had surrendered me somewhere else. (Shudder.)

This is the article about my former Shelter:

http://dogblog.dogster.com/2011/04/15/sugar-is-sweet-and-so-is-cortez/]]></content:encoded>
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	<item>
		<title>Sophatethic.</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/717680</link>

				<pubdate>Tue, 5 Apr 2011 10:33:13 PDT</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/717680</guid>
		<description>Sophathetic is Mom's new word for me.  Yesterday we were riding home from an errand when we passed O ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ Sophathetic is Mom's new word for me.  Yesterday we were riding home from an errand when we passed Oldest Lad.  Mom stopped and Oldest Lad stopped and Pennie and I barked and greeted Oldest Lad.  When I got home I searched all over the house, whining and crying for Oldest Lad.  When he was finished coaching swim practice, he stopped by the house.  I was so happy to see him!  But who did he take to University?  He took Pennie!  He said that I went last time and that it was Pennie's turn to spend the night or a few days.

I began acting Pathetic as soon as I realized Pennie was going and not me.

Now Mom calls me: Sophathetic.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Featured Diary Pick</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/717452</link>

				<pubdate>Sun, 3 Apr 2011 09:49:16 PDT</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/717452</guid>
		<description>Today I am one of the Featured Diary Picks of the Day.  One would think that I would deserve some HO ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ Today I am one of the Featured Diary Picks of the Day.  One would think that I would deserve some HONOR; or if not HONOR, at least a little RESPECT.

No.  First off, Mom went off to Church this morning as usual.  Dad stayed home, as he is a heathen.  I was looking forward to watching the Sunday morning Political Talk Shows.  Mom returned home, not five minutes after she left, with a DOG.  When Mom drove by the Public School, she saw two dogs attempting to be hit by cars.  One dog ran off, but Mom captured the other dog and brought it home.  The dog had on a collar and tags, so Mom was able to call the County Lost Dog Hot Line and find out the address of the Dog.  When she returned Izzy to her home, the other dog was already at that same house.  Mom went on to Church and Dad and I returned to the couch and our heathenism.

Feeling sufficiently politically annoyed, Dad decided to resume his attempts to burn down the back yard.  Thus far there is no Chain-Saw Wielding Maniac, but I do NOT plan to go outside today, except perhaps in the front yard.  Perhaps if Dad had not decided to accumulate some 10 or so years of sticks in one giant pile, he would be done by now, and I would not be afraid to leave my home on the very day that I am a Daily Diary Pick.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Royal Food Tester Needed!</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/716931</link>

				<pubdate>Wed, 30 Mar 2011 09:31:06 PDT</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/716931</guid>
		<description>I believe my Cheese has been poisoned.

Yes I do agree that I have allergies.  I do act quite path ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ I believe my Cheese has been poisoned.

Yes I do agree that I have allergies.  I do act quite pathetic when I reverse sneeze.  Mom and Dad were awakened several times during the night to me standing up in bed, reverse sneezing, and attempting to clear my throat.  Mom and Dad were quaking with fear that I would hack up a phlegm ball right on the sheets.

I am Queen Sophine.  I do NOT hack up Phlegm Balls on the sheets.  Perhaps I have been known to vomit upon the sheets, but as of yet I have never hacked up a Phlegm Ball upon the sheets.  (Pennie has.)

This morning Mom gave me a piece of cheese.  I should have known that lazy woman would not just voluntarily walk over to the refrigerator and unwrap a piece of individually wrapped processed American Cheese.  Soon enough I felt sleepy and calm.

There was no doubt a Benadryl hidden in the orange lump Mom fed me.  I have stopped reverse sneezing, but I am soooo sleeeeppppy . . . .]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Banished!</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/716801</link>

				<pubdate>Tue, 29 Mar 2011 08:38:51 PDT</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/716801</guid>
		<description>This is terrible!  Yesterday a large box was delivered by the UPS Man.  Mom unpacked the box content ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ This is terrible!  Yesterday a large box was delivered by the UPS Man.  Mom unpacked the box contents and put the contents together.

This is what it is:  A long gate.

The gate blocks off the Boy's office so that Pennie, Wee Lass, and ME, Queen Sophine can no longer have access to the Office!

The supposed "intention" was that Wee Lass can not go into the Boy's Office and steal interesting items such as pencils, markers, calculators, and the interesting "Brain Toys" (aka Geek Toys) that are in the Office.

The other CLEAR Intention is so that Pennie and ME, Queen Sophine can no longer walk upon Posters and Homework. Little Lad likes to work on Homework on the floor, and Posters/Projects are usually spread out on the floor while being worked on.

What is Homework, a Poster, or a Project without Dog Hair or a Dog Foot Print?

I am clearly POUTING! I  am resting my lips upon the gate bars, and whining, to express my disdain for this banishment and display my contempt for this disregard of all MY effort in helping the Lads with homework.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Suburban Terror!</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/716540</link>

				<pubdate>Sun, 27 Mar 2011 13:49:58 PDT</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/716540</guid>
		<description>Yesterday, Dad attempted to burn down the back yard.  It all started out so seemingly pleasant:  a s ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ Yesterday, Dad attempted to burn down the back yard.  It all started out so seemingly pleasant:  a sunny, but chilly day in Suburbia.  Dad pulling great sticks out from the thicket and piling them in the center of the yard.

Until the Chain-Saw Wielding Maniac showed up!  There is nothing more terrifying than a middle-aged man with a PhD wielding a Chain Saw.

I did the only smart thing I could think of:  Hide in the House.

Pennie is either far more foolish or far more brave than me:  She barked and barked AND barked from the other side of the yard.

After the Chain-Sawing, Dad and The Maniac had a Bonfire.

Dad pulled out old paperwork and ritually burned his Stock Portfolio.  He said it had already been burned in 2008; he was just doing the final act of cremation.

Later on, Dad and The Maniac came INSIDE the House.  I barked and growled at The Maniac.  He was no longer wielding his Chain Saw but I knew who he was!  The Maniac kept trying to befriend me!  Mom was getting annoyed at my barking and growling.  It usually takes me a few minutes to warm up to any man, but there was no way I was warming up to a Chain Saw-Wielding Maniac, even if he was now without Chain Saw.  Did he think I had no memory?  For all I knew he had that Chain Saw hidden in the pocket of his flannel shirt, ready to come out and hack off one of my ears!

There is still a giant pile of wood to be burned.  (Apparently if one allows sticks and branches to accumulate for nigh on a decade they don't flame up in one afternoon.)  I shall have to remain on high alert for the return of the Chain Saw.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Carnival Cake Walk</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/715594</link>

				<pubdate>Sat, 19 Mar 2011 13:43:58 PDT</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/715594</guid>
		<description>Today was the Public School Carnival.  As a Room Rep (it is no longer Politically Correct to call Ro ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ Today was the Public School Carnival.  As a Room Rep (it is no longer Politically Correct to call Room Moms, Room Moms, for indeed the job is an equal opportunity position for either gender,) Mom had many Carnival Duties.  Yesterday, Mom made many cakes.  Delicious smelling cakes, that she left cooling well pushed back from the edge of the kitchen counter, and she also was sure to take Pennie and Me on any errands.

The Carnival Cakes were donations for the Cake Walk.  To my dismay, about 4:25, Mom Cake Walked those cakes right out the door and donated them to the Public School!  All I got was a finger lick of icing from Oldest Lad when he stopped by with his Rental Dog, Lil Dud.

Then today, Mom volunteered at the carnival all day!  Poor Pennie and I were left home alone, suffering in an empty house (OK, Middle Lad was home, ostensibly he was doing homework, but was really looking at video games sites on the internet) while the rest of the family was at the Public School Carnival.

Dad returned home early because Wee Lass was NOT enjoying her Carnival Experience.

Mom did not come home for hours, along with Little Lad.

Little Lad had a CAKE!

Now first off, WALKS are for:  DOGS.
Therefore a Cake Walk Cake must be for: DOGS.

Little Lad left his Cake Walk Cake on the counter.  Mom went to rest from bending over and picking up footballs from the Football Toss Game for 4 hours.

Mom soon heard what she thought was just Me, Queen Sophine, licking myself.  Then she realized that even though I am "short" I was still tall enough, with the proper motivation, to stretch my paws up onto the counter, and get my tongue onto that Cake Walk Cake.  One whole side of the Cake Walk Cake was gone!

I still think the Cake Walk Cake was for ME, anyway, due to the obvious logic that if Walks are dogs, then Cake Walk Cakes must be for dogs, by extension.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Itching a Scratch or Scratching an Itch.</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/715162</link>

				<pubdate>Wed, 16 Mar 2011 12:49:44 PDT</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/715162</guid>
		<description>Just a few minutes ago, I had an Itch.  I chose to Scratch my Itch.  Mom was nearby, having a conver ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ Just a few minutes ago, I had an Itch.  I chose to Scratch my Itch.  Mom was nearby, having a conversation with Middle Lad.

I established eye contact with Mom.  I firmly planted my butt doodles to the kitchen floor, and I scooted.

Mom was appalled!  Without warning, I was evicted to the backyard.

Obviously, now I am back inside, since I am using the computer.

I "assume" that Mom gets itches.  I would never dare to assume that Mom scratches her bottom, because I value living HERE, as opposed to living at the Shelter.

However, let me be clear:  It would in no way bother me, or make me think less of Mom as a person, if I discovered that Mom scratches her bottom.

Therefore, why is it such a big deal that I scratch MY bottom?  Did it ever occur to Mom to attempt a good old-fashioned carpet butt-scoot boogie?  It can do wonders for the attitude, and certainly clear up any bottom itches!]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Rain Breath</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/714933</link>

				<pubdate>Tue, 15 Mar 2011 09:24:14 PDT</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/714933</guid>
		<description>It has been raining forever in the Tristate.  The Ohio River is flooding.  Fortunately, although we  ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ It has been raining forever in the Tristate.  The Ohio River is flooding.  Fortunately, although we live in the Ohio River Valley, and only a few miles from the Ohio River, we are on a HILL.  No worries of flooding beyond the usual threat of damp basement.

Meanwhile, Mom has noticed that when it rains, I get Rain Breath.  She first noticed Rain Breath on Mulligan, one of my predecessors.

Mom thinks it's almost like "Morning Breath," except that it only happens when it Rains!  It's kind of a muggy, different smelly breath from my normal.

I don't know why I get Rain Breath!  Perhaps it's just because I get so lazy when it rains, and sleep much more.

I do know that after Pennie and I returned from an errand with Mom, she tried to get us to go outside straight from the car and we refused!  We both just stood in the garage and stared at Mom.  Then Mom tricked us.  She closed the garage door and let us in the house.  The she shoved us both out the back door, but since the garage door was closed, we could not immediately just run around and into the garage.  Some day I am so sending that woman out to potty in the rain!]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>But, But, I am Queen Sophine!</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/713996</link>

				<pubdate>Mon, 7 Mar 2011 13:05:41 PST</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/713996</guid>
		<description>I rather enjoyed the outing last week, to get fitted for a new collar.  The ladies at the store oohe ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ I rather enjoyed the outing last week, to get fitted for a new collar.  The ladies at the store oohed and aahed at my loveliness, and treated me like the Queen Sophine that I am.

Then the flags went up.

It was all a ruse!

I am being "trained" to the Electronic Fence!

I should not be hemmed in by a fence, physical OR electronic!  I am Queen Sophine!  The neighbors should feel blessed if I deign to lay my poopage upon their turf!

I am acting quite grumpy about it, too, to fully express my disdain.  Thus far I do not have the "shock" on but just the warning signal that comes on if I go near the flags.

Pennie is quite grumpy due to wearing the Cone of Shame.  I am grumpy due to the reduction in my territory (and there was not even a Treaty Agreement!)  We shall see if Mom can endure TWO grumpy dogs.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Now I know how Pennie felt about ME!</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/713404</link>

				<pubdate>Wed, 2 Mar 2011 06:54:20 PST</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/713404</guid>
		<description>Yesterday, quite unexpectedly, Oldest Lad waltzed into the Utility Room holding a new Rental Dog.  O ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ Yesterday, quite unexpectedly, Oldest Lad waltzed into the Utility Room holding a new Rental Dog.  Or rather a Rental Puppy.

I did not mind Rental Dog Yoko, who then went to her furever home.  I did not even mind Rental Dog Jori, despite his insistence on attempting to dominate me.  "Shudder."  Last night while I was helping Middle Lad study for his Health Test, I realized that it did not matter:  I followed all the instructions against abuse that Middle Lad was going over in the Study Guide, but Jori was single minded on dominating me, and .  .  . .  Well, that overgrown Mop of a dog has gone to his furever home.  He never bothered Pennie.  She was an Alpha Girrl, and no overgrown Mop was going to dominate HER.

Anyway, in to the house waltzed Oldest Lad with this little brindle boy:  Lil Dude.

Lil Dude?  What kind of name is that?

Mom was immediately all ooh and ahh, didn't even mind his little piddle on the Utility Room rug (the rug that had just been cleaned.)

The whole family was smitten with Lil Dude.

Just like the family was once smitten with ME, Queen Sophine.

Lil Dude was brought home to be bathed, since the Upstairs Bathroom has obviously become a Dog Wash.  Lil Dude whimpered pathetic little puppy whimpers that could be heard all over the house!

I am quite certain that my place is secure.  Two dogs is Mom's limit, well, to be honest, DAD's limit.
I also remember that despite Pennie's initial jealousy of me; Pennie has Separation Anxiety, and does better when she has a sibling, and does enjoy my company now

Still, all this gushing over Lil Dude has set me in a foul mood.  I, Queen Sophine, am the Brindle of the house, and no little boy brindle is taking that away from me.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Sad day in Cincinnati</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/713329</link>

				<pubdate>Tue, 1 Mar 2011 13:57:54 PST</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/713329</guid>
		<description>Last night there was a terrible fire at the home of a woman who runs an dog rescue:  Recycled Doggie ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ Last night there was a terrible fire at the home of a woman who runs an dog rescue:  Recycled Doggies.
Eleven dogs and one cat lost their lives.  Two dogs are in serious condition at an Emergency Vet.  One dog that escaped the fire then ran off.  She has been sighted, but not caught yet.

These poor doggies were all destined to be, well, we all know the sad fate that awaits the "unadoptables."  The mission of Recycled Doggies was to save some of the "unadoptables" from their sad fate.

I'm sure glad that my former family surrendered me to a no-kill shelter, and that Pennie was rescued from a "kill" shelter to a no-kill shelter, and then here we are living the Suburban Life.  Pampered Princesses are what we have become, (well, Queen Sophine, in my case) well-fed, snuggled, and hardly able to remember our former life.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Sophie, Scarab Beetle</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/712489</link>

				<pubdate>Tue, 22 Feb 2011 06:06:11 PST</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/712489</guid>
		<description>I spent most of yesterday upstairs in bed with Mom and Mom's migraine.  In an effort to produce as m ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ I spent most of yesterday upstairs in bed with Mom and Mom's migraine.  In an effort to produce as many Healing Vapors as possible, I was buried under the blankets, snuggled tight against Mom.  Indeed, I was able to build up quite the Vaporage!  It must have worked for, Mom's headache is gone this morning.

Late in the afternoon, Geometry Tutor stopped by.  Instead of getting out from beneath the blankets (and leaking out too many of my built up Healing Vapors,) I sat up under the blankets and BARKED, BARKED, BARKED!

Mom said I was pathetic!

It was not Pathetic to Bark from under the blankets!  NO!  If Geometry Tutor is truly the Mathematics Genius she is purported to be, she should have been able to Triangulate to the sound of my barking, and be even more impressed with my Bigness and Braveness!

After my initial Barking, I took some time to settle down, and was wandering around the Concrete Queen Bed, still underneath the blankets.

Mom said it looked like a scene from the movie, "The Mummy," and that I was a Scarab Beetle, penetrated under a person's skin and then crawling around, before completely overtaking the person's body.  Ewww!  Those scenes were so gross!

Mom just does not appreciate either my Healing Vapors OR my Bravery.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Locked Away!</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/712004</link>

				<pubdate>Fri, 18 Feb 2011 07:46:35 PST</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/712004</guid>
		<description>Last night, Mom, Pennie, and I were helping Middle Lad with his Health Project.  I was mainly provid ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ Last night, Mom, Pennie, and I were helping Middle Lad with his Health Project.  I was mainly providing support for Mom, who was mainly providing the "Focus Factor."  As in "Focus, Middle Lad, Focus!."
Pennie had taken up her usual perch under the desk.  Pennie takes up that spot I think as a veiled threat.  Pennie had recently given birth to a litter of pups when she arrived here, from the Shelter, and it is apparent from the way Pennie runs the family, that she ruled HER Pups with an Iron Paw.  Pennie must have been a no-nonsense Mother.  Anyway, Pennie lays under the desk while Middle Lad works, almost as if she will bite his ankles if he gets up.

At some point, Mom got up and went upstairs, then returned to the Boy's Office.

No one noticed that Queen Sophine was missing!

Mom assumed I had simply joined Dad, who was helping out on the Health Project by napping/watching TV in the Family Room.

Hours, yes HOURS LATER, Dad went upstairs, opened the closet door in Mom and Dad's room and guess who was in there?  ME, Sophie!

I was locked away, trapped in that closet, for hours!

When I ran downstairs to see Mom I was shaking!

Mom did act suitable "contrite," but if Middle Lad gets a poor grade on his Health Project due to my lack of input, well, I can not be blamed.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Trail Food</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/711090</link>

				<pubdate>Sat, 12 Feb 2011 13:53:18 PST</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/711090</guid>
		<description>This morning Mom was up early taking Me and Pennie for a walk.  We headed over to the &quot;nicer&quot; neighb ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ This morning Mom was up early taking Me and Pennie for a walk.  We headed over to the "nicer" neighborhood, where I was certain my Regal Bearing would be appreciated, despite me coming from a Shelter.

I was most impressed when I turned a corner and discovered the street paved in:  Little Green Frozen Sausages!

Mom immediately called to Pennie: "Stay away from the Geese, Pennie."  Pennie normally pulls the leash from Mom's hand and chases off after all animals, but Pennie must have experience with these "Geese Commoners," for Pennie stayed right by Mom's side.

I looked over and saw that the Geese were gathered by the "Pond," in reality a "Retention Basin."  I gather one cannot have "Retention Basins" in "Nice" neighborhoods, so they become "Ponds."

Ah, so these Geese were the source of the Green Frozen Sausages!  I hurriedly gulped down a few.

Mom gasped in horror!

(Surprisingly, Pennie did not partake of the Little Green Frozen Sausages.)

Mom immediately turned around and force-marched Pennie and me away from that street and all it's riches of Little Green Frozen Sausages!

Mom has not accepted any Royal Queen Sophine Kisses from me all day!]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Mismatched Queen</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/710973</link>

				<pubdate>Fri, 11 Feb 2011 15:18:55 PST</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/710973</guid>
		<description>My Mom noticed from the very beginning that the front part of my muzzle has a white patch on MY righ ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ My Mom noticed from the very beginning that the front part of my muzzle has a white patch on MY right side (the onlooker's left side.)  The left side of my face is all brindle.  Sure my brindles don't line up, but are brindles "supposed" to line up?  Do a Tiger's stripes line up?  And if a Tiger's stripes did NOT line up, would any one dare to point this out?

Well, last night my Mom saw me from afar, and noticed something else mismatched about Me, Queen Sophine.

My bottom has a light brown patch of hair on the right.  The left side is all dark brown brindle, like the rest of me.  Mom noticed right off my lovely butt doodles, but this is the first she realized that my bottom is mismatched.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Sleep Comfort</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/710850</link>

				<pubdate>Thu, 10 Feb 2011 09:54:41 PST</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/710850</guid>
		<description>I have been given the nickname &quot;Queen Sophine.&quot;  It does fit; but I do find that my minions are not  ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ I have been given the nickname "Queen Sophine."  It does fit; but I do find that my minions are not as cooperative as I would like.

I do not like to move once I choose a sleep position.  Really, whomever I choose to share slumber should simply relish my mere presence and not give a thought to their own comfort.  It is not often one is allowed to hear the gentle snores of royalty rumbling in one's ears, and it should be considered as music to my minion's souls.

I like to sleep under the covers, curled up in a ball on top of, or between Mom's legs.  She can tolerate this for a time, but then takes it upon herself to MOVE!  I don't like to move.  I LIKED my position.  I was warm, snuggled, and snoring.  I get down from the bed, walk around in a royal huff, and then jump back up on the bed.  Of course then I must find a "new" position.  If possible, I simply get back as close as possible into the old position.

After a few cycles of Me, Queen Sophine jumping down in a Royal Huff, and then attempting to find a new comfortable spot, Mom generally gives in and accepts that she herself may have to accept a little discomfort in order to sleep with Royalty.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Super Bowl Brute!</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/710443</link>

				<pubdate>Mon, 7 Feb 2011 08:03:43 PST</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/710443</guid>
		<description>Yesterday afternoon, I started out on a seemingly pleasant walk with Pennie, Dad, Little Lad and Wee ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ Yesterday afternoon, I started out on a seemingly pleasant walk with Pennie, Dad, Little Lad and Wee Lass.  We were rapidly waylaid at a neighbor's house.
That is where I had my first introduction to Pennie's friend, Calbert.  Only I shall call him CalBrute!

Pennie and Calbert ran off to play and roughhouse happily.  Calbert is now an 80 pound blond, chow-setter 10 month old over-grown Pup.  He has zero manners.  His main goal was to dominate me.

Pennie has played with CalBrute since he was but a 10 week old ball of fluff.  At that time she was 3 times his size and immediately showed that SHE, Pennie, was dominant.  Being stupid, CalBrute has not realize that he now outweighs Pennie by 33 pounds (for Dog's sake, Calbert is equal to one Pennie, plus one Sophie!)  CalBrute still thinks Pennie is the dominant Dog.

I ended up huddling in a corner, protecting my personal privates, and NOT enjoying my Super Bowl Walk.

By way of some small satisfaction, I did later on go to a REAL Super Bowl Party and used my endearing cuteness to beg a sickening amount of chips.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Sophii Mii</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/709672</link>

				<pubdate>Tue, 1 Feb 2011 18:51:09 PST</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/709672</guid>
		<description>Mom created a Mii for me on her Wii Fat Plus, I mean Wii Fit Plus.  But here's the thing:  no Brindl ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ Mom created a Mii for me on her Wii Fat Plus, I mean Wii Fit Plus.  But here's the thing:  no Brindle choices!  The Sophii has ended up looking just like a smaller version of Pennii.  And Pennii doesn't really look much like Pennie due to the limited choices.

The Lads have downloaded Mii versions of:  Darth Vader, Yoko Ono, Indiana Jones, Garfield, and Odie, just to name a few.

For all the advanced technology that goes into Nintendo, a Dog would think there would be enough choices to make an accurate Sophii.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Metaphorically Challenged</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/708996</link>

				<pubdate>Fri, 28 Jan 2011 05:53:02 PST</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/708996</guid>
		<description>I, Queen Sophine, have been rudely and considerably acted against in a most grammatical way.

Last ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ I, Queen Sophine, have been rudely and considerably acted against in a most grammatical way.

Last night, Little Lad was doing his homework.  The topic was "metaphors."  For those who are grammatically challenged, let me refresh:  a metaphor involves the comparison of items without using the words "like" or "as."

Little Lad was to come up with as many Metaphors as he could, in particular involving family members.

"Pennie's tail is a waving sword."

"Pennie's tongue is a face mop."

"Pennie's beauty is as a lovely rose."

"Sophie's fur bears tiger stripes."

That's a 3:1 ratio, of Pennie to Queen Sophine!

Oh, sure, Little Lad is just getting the hang of Metaphors, and his Metaphors may not even BE Metaphors, but did he have to just be so plain RUDE?  I thought Public School these days taught "Inclusion."  Yet, here I am sadly less-included in the Metaphors!

If Little Lad does not improve, then I shall surely resort to the age-old tactic that dogs everywhere employ to air grievances against their school-aged family members:  I shall eat his homework.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>What I want to do</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/707818</link>

				<pubdate>Tue, 18 Jan 2011 12:51:01 PST</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/707818</guid>
		<description>This is what I want to do:
Go to the Grocery Store.

Mom hates going to the grocery store.
She h ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ This is what I want to do:
Go to the Grocery Store.

Mom hates going to the grocery store.
She hates taking Wee Lass with her to the grocery store.
Wee Lass hates going to the grocery store, even though she gets a bag of cookies at the beginning and gets to eat her way through the shopping experience!

I would LOVE to go to the grocery store.  I would NOT complain.  I would NOT whine.  I would not complain about putting the groceries away when I got home.
I would never, ever, not once ask for a non-grocery item, like stupid Silly Bandz or a Balloon.

I would be the Perfect Grocery Store Companion.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>I can behave any way I want</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/707734</link>

				<pubdate>Mon, 17 Jan 2011 18:48:44 PST</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/707734</guid>
		<description>Today the Lads were home from school.  Middle Lad had a friend over:  Buddy.  When Buddy came to the ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ Today the Lads were home from school.  Middle Lad had a friend over:  Buddy.  When Buddy came to the door, I was very friendly.  I even let him rub me while he and Middle Lad played piano together.   I joined Buddy and Middle Lad in the basement while they played video games.

Later on I grew bored and came upstairs to nap on the couch.

Buddy and Middle Lad came upstairs.

Oh No!  There was a stranger in the house!  I barked and barked!  Mom wondered if I forgot who Buddy was while I was napping.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>What about a Heated Carriage?</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/706561</link>

				<pubdate>Sat, 8 Jan 2011 09:49:24 PST</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/706561</guid>
		<description>As one can see from my recent photo, I do look quite Queen-like when dressed in my Princess garb.
S ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ As one can see from my recent photo, I do look quite Queen-like when dressed in my Princess garb.
Shouldn't I then expect a Royal Heated Carriage?

This morning Mom wore:  pajama bottoms, jeans, pajama top, fleece shirt, wool socks, boots, mid-weight coat, down mittens, and a hat.

Sophie wore:  harness and crocheted sweater.

I walked for about 5 minutes until we hit the end of the sidewalk and were walking in the street.  Then I began to limp.  Mom thought perhaps I had Salt in my paw pads from the pavement.  We turned around.

I was certain we were heading for home.

Then we passed right on by My House!  I stopped limping once we were back on the salt-free, although snow-covered sidewalk, but I was still cold!  Mom insisted on walking past the house, in the opposite direction, for about a walk of probably about a mile!

Trust me, I was growling "off with her head!" under my breath by the time I finally returned to my heated Castle.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Intelli-Sophie</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/705911</link>

				<pubdate>Sun, 2 Jan 2011 15:13:12 PST</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/705911</guid>
		<description>I am exhausted with all the intelligence I absorbed today!  Mom and Little Lad were playing a game c ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ I am exhausted with all the intelligence I absorbed today!  Mom and Little Lad were playing a game called QWIRKLE.  It has little colored tiles that they were playing with on the floor.  I played on Mom's side.  I really wanted Mom to win, so I helped her cheat by laying on some of her tiles.  Despite my help, Mom still lost.  What is a Sophie Dog to do?

Then the Tutor came over.  At first I was really, really worried.  Middle Lad can be very troublesome, what with forgetting his assignments, and needing to be reminded at least 729 times to practice his piano and saxophone, but to just get him Tutored?  And since when did Home Tutoring start?  I am pretty confidant it is usually done at a Vet's office or a clinic.

I most relieved when I realized it was a Geometry Tutor, not a "gulp" Male-Part Tutor.  It seems like most male dogs don't miss anything after their Tutoring, but Middle Lad?  I think just a low Geometry Grade doesn't warrant such a full scale assault.

Regardless, I had to sniff and inspect the Geometry Tutor thoroughly.  Then I listened in.  I am now certain I know more about Geometry than Middle Lad.  Perhaps I can get that Router to Triangulate and keep the Internet running.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Dogs Versus WiFi</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/705485</link>

				<pubdate>Thu, 30 Dec 2010 17:45:48 PST</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/705485</guid>
		<description>DOGS!
I was one of those dogs left at the shelter due to one of the typically lame human excuses:   ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ DOGS!
I was one of those dogs left at the shelter due to one of the typically lame human excuses:  Moving.

I am not sure why Pennie was brought to the Shelter.

Oh, the list is endless.  Mulligan was found wandering the streets and was lucky enough to be found, skin and bones, by a Shelter volunteer.

Tyler was abandoned at a Boarding Kennel.  His humans divorced and they never came back for him!

I just never anticipated this latest threat:  WiFi.

To be more exact, it is the WiFi Routers that are to blame.  My new home is a "wireless community," with a Router that somehow connects the computers, SmartPhones, Wii, and Dog knows what, to the Internet.

The problem?  It doesn't Route half the time.  (And I shall not name names, but this is not some cheap Router, either.)

According to the Thursday, December 23, 2010, Wall Street Journal, the problems with Routers is well known.  The article is titled:  "No Signal:  Homes Often Baffle Wi-Fi From Routers."

Here is the pertinent excerpt from the article:  "Every home is a different combination of size, building materials and potential competition for precious wireless bandwidth, such as other Wi-Fi networks and cordless phones.  Even pets can obstruct signals."

There it is.  "Even pets can obstruct signals."

How many dogs (or cats) will end up in shelters because their owner's internet ran slow too many times?  Or their Smart Phone was Stupid?  Or their Movie wouldn't load onto NetFlix?

Will we soon just be considered "signal blockers?"]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>That Santa Man</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/703914</link>

				<pubdate>Sun, 19 Dec 2010 10:58:55 PST</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/703914</guid>
		<description>Pennie and I visited That Santa Man today.

I couldn't think of a thing to say!  I felt like Ralph ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ Pennie and I visited That Santa Man today.

I couldn't think of a thing to say!  I felt like Ralphie from "A Christmas Story."  All I could hear was the noise of "HO HO HO" ringing in my ears, while I wanted to say "I want an Official Red Ryder BB Gun with a Compass in the Stock."

Only "I" don't want a Red Ryder BB Gun.  Pennie does.  Pennie wants a Red Ryder BB Gun so she can finally catch a squirrel.  Or perhaps The Cat that always hangs out by the play set.

ME?  I couldn't ask for a Red Ryder BB Gun or anything else!  I was a quivering mess!

I did sit nicely for the picture, and accepted kind words from the photographers, but I forget to tell Santa what I wanted!]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Bark</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/703513</link>

				<pubdate>Thu, 16 Dec 2010 07:26:59 PST</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/703513</guid>
		<description>I am disappointed in my bark.  The family assures me that I am &quot;big and brave,&quot; but I have a high pi ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ I am disappointed in my bark.  The family assures me that I am "big and brave," but I have a high pitched, although loud, bark.

This is not meant as a criticism of other dogs who have high-pitched barks.  Chihuahuas and many Terrierists such as Yorkies and Rat Terrierests have high-pitched barks.  Their high-pitch is actually an early warning of their inherent threat, much like many poisonous frogs have bright colored skin as a warning:  don't eat or lick the poisonous frog or death will follow.  

All  who have insulted any of the terrierist breeds know that they are the land mines, the Improvised Explosive Devices (IEDs) of the Canine World, ready to explode at any moment.

But ME, Sophie?  I am just a 33 pound, shelter mutt.  I don't look overtly threatening.  I don't have the reputation of a terrierist.  And I have a bark that sounds "cute."  A bark that makes a human want to lean over and say: "aww, whatcha barkin' at little girl?"

But I am not a little girl.  I am big and brave.  Perhaps Santa can bring me Voice Lessons.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Orbital Politics</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/702988</link>

				<pubdate>Sun, 12 Dec 2010 11:58:11 PST</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/702988</guid>
		<description>Apparently I have to learn to Play Politics.

I have been happy at home, orbiting Mom, for the pas ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ Apparently I have to learn to Play Politics.

I have been happy at home, orbiting Mom, for the past couple of weeks.  I sleep with Mom.  I sit on Mom.  I ride in the car with Mom.  I follow Mom around.  I orbit Mom within about a one meter circle at all times.

Until Friday.  Oldest Lad came home from University to visit.  I was Oldest Lad's First Rental Dog, until a scant few weeks ago when The Family adopted me.

Now I scarcely notice Mom, unless Oldest Lad is not home.  Then I constantly look for Oldest Lad, but do deign to allow Mom to comfort me.

This is not sitting well with Mom.

She thinks she is being used.

Pennie has learned to Play Politics.  Pennie loves Oldest Lad, too, but Pennie has learned to still act like she loves Mom, even when Oldest Lad is around.  Pennie throws a few tokens of affection Mom's way to keep Mom interested.  Last night Pennie even slept with Mom, giving up the chance to sleep with Oldest Lad, just to stay in Mom's good graces (and probably with a mind to Christmas as well.)

This afternoon Oldest Lad went off to Whore Around with the dogs at the Animal Shelter.  Mom thinks I should be back to orbiting HER, but I am too focused on waiting for HIM to get home.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>It's normal, get over it.</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/701990</link>

				<pubdate>Sat, 4 Dec 2010 06:11:52 PST</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/701990</guid>
		<description>The Wee Lass doesn't remember having Mulligan here, although she should.  Her first English word was ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ The Wee Lass doesn't remember having Mulligan here, although she should.  Her first English word was HIS name:  "Mo."  

Anyway, since the Wee Lass doesn't remember having TWO dogs, she has been a big taken back by a perfectly NORMAL Dog Behavior:  Butt Sniffing.  Pennie and I regularly inspect each other.  We inspect everyone else.  We lick our Personal Privates.  Pennie is known as "The Personal Hygiene Princess," but I suppose Wee Lass has gotten used to those regular cold-nosed body checks, and so this re-newed Butt Sniffing has brought it all back to the point of Preschool Obsession.

Fortunately, the Wee Lass does not have a firm grasp of Understandable Language, as is normal for her scant years of age.

Mom was out with the Wee Lass shopping, and the Wee Lass spontaneously decided to talk to a stranger about Butt Sniffing.  Mom understand perfectly well that Wee Lass was attempting to explain to this stranger that Wee Lass has a new dog named Sophie, and there is a whole lot of butt-sniffing going on.  However, the Stranger, did NOT understand this.

Yoko, Oldest Lad's new Rental Dog, stopped by last night, and trust me, Wee Lass was treated to an exhibition of even more of her new obsession.  And Yoko and Pennie and I all played and wore each other out.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Sophie Madame Hiss</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/701623</link>

				<pubdate>Wed, 1 Dec 2010 06:33:41 PST</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/701623</guid>
		<description>A girrl has to use her talents and this is one I have:  Eye Brindles.

I have Brindle Circles arou ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ A girrl has to use her talents and this is one I have:  Eye Brindles.

I have Brindle Circles around my eyes that I can use to hypnotize my family to put them under my spell.  I have a habit of staring with my dark, deep pools of brown eyes, and then as the victim is drawn in, the brindles begin to go around in circles.

It is just like "Sir Hiss" from the Disney Movie of "Robin Hood."

Next thing the victim knows, I am nestled on them, and they are powerless to move or to stop rubbing my head.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Sputnik, but with a purpose</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/701322</link>

				<pubdate>Sun, 28 Nov 2010 12:38:26 PST</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/701322</guid>
		<description>Last night I was snuggling on the couch with Mom, Dad, and Pennie.  Mom kept asking Dad if his Cell  ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ Last night I was snuggling on the couch with Mom, Dad, and Pennie.  Mom kept asking Dad if his Cell Phone was ringing.  He had it on the Vibrate setting and Mom was certain that she kept hearing the low tone and the vibration of Dad's cell phone.  Mom finally got up and checked. No calls.

It was me!

As I was snuggling, I was making little purring sounds, that also made me vibrate.

The original Sputnik, despite being the First Satellite.  Despite setting off the Race to the Moon, it really didn't "do anything."  It just beeped and emitted random sounds.

Me?  Maybe I do emit random sounds, but I certain have "A Purpose."]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

	<item>
		<title>Sputnik Sophie</title>
		<link>http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/700655</link>

				<pubdate>Tue, 23 Nov 2010 12:00:03 PST</pubdate>
		<author>Sophie ~ writing at dogster.com</author>
		<category></category>		
		<guid ispermalink="true">http://www.dogster.com/dogs/1166394/diary/Sputnik_sophie/700655</guid>
		<description>Hello Dogster!
Sputnik was the first earth-orbiting Satellite.  Me?  I must orbit my favorite peopl ...</description>

		<content:encoded><![CDATA[ Hello Dogster!
Sputnik was the first earth-orbiting Satellite.  Me?  I must orbit my favorite people at all times.  My favorite person is Oldest Lad.  I was his Foster Dog, but Mom and Dad decided to adopt me.  Now I orbit Mom all the time.  I often emit little sounds, much like Sputnik's constant chirping.

So far I am causing a great deal of stress because I have been home almost 48 hours and have not eaten anything.  Oh, I did submit to eating a piece of cheese with a Benadryl not-so-cleverly hidden in it.  I seem to be a bit itchy, so Mom gave me Benadryl.

I barked at Middle Lad when he came downstairs this morning.  I guess I forgot that he was a member of the family.  I threw up in bed the first night.  Other than not eating and throwing up in the bed, I have been a model citizen.]]></content:encoded>
	</item>
	

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